A Box Full of History
by Orrunan
Summary: A creative applying of quantum mechanics has given Gaia and Cloud a new chance, but a mind like Hojo's is not easily beaten and deadline approaches. Avalanche survived Fuhito and their exodus from Cosmo Canyon, will Firefrost One be the breaking point?
1. Prologue: Quantum mechanics

**Prologue: Quantum mechanics**

Disclaimer: I don't own FF and chances are I never will.

Warning: Very eventually slash.

AN: My beta is Quiet N Cryptic. My sincerest thanks to you and your hard work.

* * *

What is it like to be Gaia? She can be neither young nor old for there is no comparison. If there are others like her, they spin through the space too far away, around their own distant stars. She is made of many lives and many memories, interloping and contradicting, experiencing myriad truths. She is made of parts that die and are recycled, like cells in a body.

Gaia is suffering from a cancer and dying because of a parasite. The cancer is humanity, cells gone rouge, drilling into her, taking her, using and polluting her, but she loves that tumor as a part of her own body. It isn't lethal yet. She can afford to wait just a little bit longer, give them time to learn. They do not know what they are doing. The parasite, the Calamity from Outside, is not part of her and she holds no affection towards her. But how can she destroy something that can survive the cold vacuum of the space, attacks of cosmic rays and magnetic storms that rage around neutron stars? She had buried the parasite alive after it drove her Cetra, the brightest parts of her, to the brink of extinction. But even that was not enough.

What is it like to defend your living body from a parasite? For Gaia there are no doctors to issue medicines. In the Lifestream the Cetra still live; for Lifestream is beyond time and space. There, Gaia holds a box in her power. It isn't actually a box, but there is no better metaphor for it. A piece of history and the collective consciousness of the Cetra are what she conceals in it and then closes the lid. She doesn't want to summon the Weapons and this is her last measure to prevent the necessity.

This generation is the end of the Cetra, but she has saved the best for the last. In the Midgard slums eleven years old Aeris Gainsborough turns in her sleep and frowns, dreaming of memories that may yet become.

* * *

Cloud woke up to see a ceiling that was not his own. It seemed vaguely familiar, especially the small crack between the boards that looked like an eye, but he couldn't remember where he had seen it before. True, these days his memory still had more holes than Nibelheim cheese, but that was about his past. He should have remembered how he had tonight ended up in wherever the ceiling was. He sat up, but the body wasn't his. It wasn't his anymore. Cloud woke up in a body that belonged to a child in a room that belonged to a child. In the corner was his toychest, on the nightstand beside his bed a cup of water, the quilt draped over him was made of blue and yellow and green swatches by his mother.

Cloud buried his nose into the warm, woolen quilt; it smelt like the soap his mother made in the big, black cauldron. He hadn't remembered it having this sharp a smell.

"I'm dreaming," he said aloud. He much preferred a dream like this to the dreams he often suffered from, dreams of Nibelheim burning, Hojo, or Aeris in the church, skewered through with a madman's blade. He sat up just because he could. This was the first lucid dream he'd ever had. Maybe he could go to see his mother sleeping in the bedroom next to his; her face had blurred in his memories a long time ago until he could only recall her kind, blue eyes. The floor was chilly under his bare feet and the moonlight through the window lit the room just so; the details seemed sharper than in any dream. He could admire it like art.

"You're not dreaming, I am." With the dear, longed, never forgotten voice came green light and Cloud turned around.

Aeris shone like the Lifestream itself as she extended her hand. Cloud had long ago learned to associate the colour green with Mako, but Aeris made it both unearthly and natural, so full of life. Oh, the irony of that. His eyes were stinging and he had to take measured breaths to keep the tears from falling. It was like in Hojo's lab. It's just pain, it will be over if you wait long enough. Inhale, exhale, in steady rhythm. It's just pain. Aeris's face was still so clear and honest; she moved like she had always moved, but her hand went through his chest with a small jolt. Inhale, exhale.

"I missed you," he whispered to the dead flower girl. It was odd how he had to look up at her now and he was terribly conscious of how underdeveloped this body was, how his centre of gravity was off and his arms were weak. She tried to touch him again, with no better success, but her smile was more happy than sad.

"I've missed you too, but now I come with good news. It doesn't have to happen like it happened." She tilted her head slightly, thinking what she had said.

"Er, allow me to rephrase that. Have you ever heard of Faremis' cat?" Her voice was full of anticipation and he felt bizarre, dreaming of her coming back to him to talk about somebody's pet. Maybe this was his subconscious being subtle and using metaphors for once.

"No, I haven't. Who is Faremis?" he kept the conversation going. He would have talked about weather, chocobo racing, the price of good glassware in Gongaga, Wutaiian guerrilla tactics, anything.

"Gast Faremis was my father. He was also the head of Shin-Ra's Science Research Department that originally discovered Jenova, which he later came to regret deeply, but he had other, less apocalyptic merits in his résumé, too. He applied quantum mechanics to a living being. In his original thought experiment he describes how one could, in principle, transform a superposition inside an atom to a large-scale superposition of a live and dead cat by coupling cat and atom with the help of a so-called diabolical mechanism…" Cloud's felt like he would either laugh or cry any moment. Not enough to find himself in his ten-year-old body in a town that apparently wasn't burnt and dead and Aeris as a ghost, she expected him to follow that?

"Superposition?" he asked weakly.

"The superposition principle," Aeris explained with a sympathetic smile and a ghost-touch to his lips, "says that the way to describe the world is to assign such a complex number to every possible situation, and that the way to describe how things change is to treat these numbers mathematically as if they were probabilities. Gast proposed a scenario with a cat in a sealed box, where the cat's life or death is dependent on the state of a subatomic particle. The Mideel interpretation, which by the way is the correct one, says that the cat remains both alive and dead until the box is opened." Both dead and alive, this was beginning to hint hope, even if he had absolutely no idea how.

"Is this real?" Because if someone could pull coming back from death off it would be Aeris. She had summoned Holy and stopped Meteor, single-handedly saving the world. She had done more good than he ever had, so why did she have to be the one to go in the first place?

"This is real," she told him with understanding voice and Cloud felt his knees betraying him. He dropped down to the floor, he could have written long tomes of pain, but he had never known joy could be such a shock it almost made you throw up. He forced his body to obey and stood again right away, looking deep into Aeris' eyes. They were even greener now, and this felt much too real to be dream, didn't it? It had to, because if this was a dream it was cruelty beyond anything Jenova and Hojo together had managed to cook up.

He was not going to let her down ever again. He wasn't.

"You can be alive, too?" he asked, truly afraid of the answer. He was clad in thin pyjamas and without the quilt around him the room was chilly enough to freeze such wistful notions. In real life the Nibelheim nights were cold and the dead didn't come back. She shone green like life and still so much like the seawraiths he had heard Cid telling tall tales of. There was no scent he could detect and his Soldier instincts were screaming mirage.

"Better than that, my heart. If you do everything right it may never happen at all. A system stops being a superposition of states and becomes either one or the other when an observation takes place. As long as the box is closed, the system simultaneously exists in a superposition of the states of "decayed nucleus and a dead cat" and "undecayed nucleus and a living cat", and only when the box is opened the wave function collapses into one of the two states. Cloud, when they found the Calamity's remains, Gaia locked this piece of history into a box to protect herself. It happens both ways as we speak."

Cloud hadn't paid much attention to what she said after the "it may never happen" part. He wasn't going to understand it without a full quantum mechanics lecture with all trappings and he had much better things to do now than learning physics.

There was no way his mind could concoct scientific jargon like that.

"What do I do now?" he asked eagerly. How to be the living cat instead of the dead cat? How to escape his childhood hero's madness, his mother's death, Hojo's scalpel, Zack's death, his beloved's death? He would have done anything.

"Humans are made of memories, my heart. In fact, you are not an adult Cloud in a child's body, but a child with the adult's memories, memories of the bad course of events. It's all about probabilities, you see. Like I said, the way to describe how things change is to treat the situation's numbers as if they were probabilities. Since there is a much higher chance of things turning out badly, the Cetra are stacking the odds in our favour. You have seven days to change the world so that the cat will live. After that, the memories will be gone and you will be a normal child again." She smiled to him like she used to, and his heart ached with longing and loss. If none of it had ever happened, she would never be his at all, but Zack's, who had fallen through her roof first. But she would be alive and so would everyone else; much more than he had dared to dream in his most private, deepest sleep. That was what mattered. This was the anything he would do.

"Kiss me one more time. I love you, and have loved you since I fell through your roof," he whispered and Aeris knelt to press her immaterial lips against his, ran her tongue right through his and if anything it felt like an electric shock. Her eyes were sad also.

"Zack may love me well if things go right, but you will still have loved me the best, even if you never get to do so." She was gone with the light and he was cold, but determined.

Seven days. He had seven precious days and he was going to make the most of them if it killed him.

* * *

Gaia knows entropy. Entropy is energy broken down in irretrievable heat, the partial loss of the ability of a system to perform work due to the effects of irreversibility. Entropy is the slow death of the universe. Energy can not be destroyed, but it can be irretrievably lost. There will be an end to all.

But this is not the end. Even entropy can be warded off by the power of creation, and love is creation. Love can create life. Love can create one precious chance.

* * *

AN: I didn't come up with this on my own; I'm borrowing Schrödinger's cat here.


	2. Chapter I: Seven days

**Chapter I: Seven** **days**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

What is it like to be Jenova? She is no human and her mind is not that of a human. She is a queen bee in a hive she captured, the mother of all the drone bees she creates. As a virus, she is ever hungry, the one whose fingers twist genes and Lifestream to make it all burn clean for her. She is hungry for energy; once Jenova lands upon a new planet, she will begin to eat. She is jealous; she will destroy every form of life she finds on the planet she takes like a lover, like a spider that devours its mate with sharp teeth and sex, and doesn't that really give meaning to calling orgasm small death? Jenova can absorb the memories and form of her prey, hiding as their loved ones to destroy them. Jenova doesn't think she is evil. Is she if she has no concept of moral? Who is there to answer to after she has left?

Maybe she is a cruel goddess, the one that crushes underfoot, a mother that devours her children, the Igniter of Forest Fires, Mother of Frost and Famine, the Extinguisher of Spirit. It all depends on how much one is willing to anthropomorphize her.

Jenova is a true mother now. She didn't mean to be, but maybe she won't devour her offspring after all. It depends on how good a son her drone/Sephiroth/fragment/defender/carrier/back-up copy will prove to be, how much he can contribute to the hive. If he can love to death and with death also? Who knows? There is a kind of functionalistic beauty in her, in being perfectly suited for her purpose. Her purpose is only herself.

* * *

Memory is a complicated construction, our memories are our past, are what makes us the people we are. After seven times twenty four hours, Cloud Strife cleanly forgot his future-past, all cutting and scalding details, wrongs done to him and to the world that had made him a bitter man that had once upon a time docilely let Geostigma wreak havoc in his body just to be rid of it all. The memories that he made while under influence were trickier, however. This is what he later remembered.

The Shin-Ra Mansion had earned a bad reputation long before Cloud had been born. No one knew exactly why, but every town needed its haunted house and so people were all too eager to come up with all kinds of morbid rumors. At lest that was what Cloud thought; he was much too old to believe in ghosts and vampires, though the story about a man that slept in a coffin deep inside the mansion and left when the moon was full to hunt for blood was kind of uncomfortable when the full moon was approaching. Even if he knew that no one died on full moon nights anyway, and he would have noticed in a small town like Nibelheim.

In any case, the mansion certainly had been abandoned when he was two years old. His mother had told him that his father used to work there when Shin-Ra still used the place and he thought that was seven kinds of neat. He didn't know much about his father and other children teased him because he was a half-orphan, but their fathers were just normal shepherds and farmers and smiths or other boring things. His father had been a scientist and so had his mother before she had gotten married. Cloud knew his mother would be mad at him if she found out he had gone up to the mansion by himself, because these days monsters were more plentiful than ever, or so the old men always complained to anyone who would listen, and the crops were getting sparser, but he had a knife with him and he wasn't scared. How dangerous could something like a tonberry be anyway? Those vermin were tiny! So he made his way up to the mansion to explore. Maybe he would even find his father's laboratory!

The place was pretty creepy, though; it even had several secret passages like a castle from the books old Goldwheat read to Tifa when the mayor wasn't listening. They couldn't be very good secret passages, though; it had taken him just two days to find four of those so far: one leading to a cleverly hidden alternate exit and the three inside the house were in each of the master bedrooms and one was behind a bookshelf opening on a staircase spiraling down, down into darkness. He hadn't found anything big yet, only a very trashed library with books shredded into itsy, bitsy little paper ribbons with half letters peppering them, but he hadn't explored the fourth secret passage either and he was looking forward to it today. This was the third exploration day.

Excitement danced through him as he made his way around Nibelheim and into the mansion's secret entrance, hid behind pine trees and junipers, a vibrant green wall and clean outdoor smell full of pitch and juniper berries.

"Here I come, father," he said aloud. The father whom he only knew as the picture on the mantelpiece was as close as he came to having an imaginary friend and he was used to playing alone. He wasn't good with people and he didn't want to try too hard, because if he looked like a pity case it would kill him. So he flipped on the flashlight and began making his way down the rickety, spiraling staircase, grey from old age.

It was a nice, warm day if you considered how late in autumn it was, but the air inside was thick and cold, damp and stale, and the darkness loomed threateningly just around him and his yellow light. Cloud moved carefully, one hand on the rough stonewall beside him to steady himself, testing each creaking step before putting his weight and life on it. He longed to go faster, hungered to go faster without knowing why, but he had no clue how far down the stairwell went and he really wouldn't have to worry about tonberries or other assorted monsters if he fell and broke his neck so he made himself be careful. What he found at the bottom wasn't at all what he had been hoping.

At the end of the long hallway, there was another library with no floor other than the bedrock. Not his father's laboratory, not a treasure chamber, not even skeletons or cool weapons. Cloud was rather disappointed, though the hallway still went on.

Then he noticed a big, angular object at the centre of the room. He pointed the flashlight towards it, thinking it was maybe some kind of treasure chest, but that wasn't it.

It was a coffin, he realized with a thrill, maybe this place was a crypt of some sort.

"This is creepy, father. Why did you have bodies in the basement?" he asked from the shadows. It was kind of nice creepy, however, since dead bodies weren't really dangerous, just icky. Or maybe there would be a skeleton inside?

"_You won't know unless you look inside_," his father whispered into his ear and he couldn't help himself, he had to see what was inside. He would never know if he didn't look. The lid was heavy, but when Cloud put all his body behind the push he managed to open it and he actually almost fell right in, his balance upset. It was good he didn't because the coffin had a body in it.

The corpse was that of a tall, black-haired man and what he could see of it wasn't rotten at all. The man was wearing boots that looked like they were very difficult to walk in, black pants, a tattered, red cloak and some kind of weird metallic glove with talons. His face was pale, but in so good condition that if the man had been lying in a bed instead of coffin Cloud would have thought he was just sleeping. Watching the corpse before him Cloud was suddenly overcome with an impulse to touch the man. He really wasn't sure why because the skin of a dead man must feel really disgusting, but still he reached with a hand that didn't even tremble, like some bold seer in a trance. Maybe the mould on the walls was hallucinogenic or something because it was really hard to think straight at the time. But hallucinogenic mould or not he wasn't prepared for the metal hand to come up to grab his wrist to a painful grip or the flash of red vampire eyes as the person inside the coffin was suddenly wide awake. It's just pain, he dimly thought full of overwhelming pity and no idea why. Then the panic won over the odd pity and he screamed and dropped the flashlight to the floor, tried to tug his hand free in vain. His mouth tasted of metal.

"Let go of me, you vampire!" What if it ate him? But much to his surprise the vampire let him go and he scrambled back so fast his feet slipped on the uneven floor and he fell on his behind. The vampire rose from the coffin and looked at him oddly before stepping out of it. His feet didn't make any sound despite the weird boots.

"How did you get in here, child? It's dangerous here. You must go before Hojo or his assistants come back," he told Cloud and it wasn't very vampiric behaviour at all. Maybe he was a really nice vampire and wouldn't having a vampire as a friend be cool? Cloud smiled shyly, all fear forgotten.

"Who is Hojo? Nobody lives here anymore, this place is abandoned. I'm Cloud, it's nice to meet you, mister Vampire," he chattered happily and got back up, dusting his trousers. The vampire stared at him like he had suddenly sprouted wings or something, but it couldn't be that because only Mako poisoning caused mutations like that and he had never even seen Mako. Plus, he would have noticed if he had extra limbs sprouting from his back.

"Adandoned? How long has this place been empty?" the vampire asked, his eyes doing something funny, like there was something inside them that twitched and that made Cloud feel queasy so he looked away. Like some big fish swimming just below the surface and the water dyed red by setting sun.

"It was abandoned when I was two. My father was a scientist and he used to work here, but then he died. I was one day short of a year old then," Cloud told the man with no unease. Usually he didn't like telling people his father was dead, but since vampires were undead and that meant kind of dead, the man couldn't really mock him for it. But he was really glad the man's eyes had stopped rippling because no eyes should do things like that, even if they were Materia red. He waited for the man to say something, but he was being really quiet.

"Do you have a name, mister Vampire? How did you get to be here?" he asked to keep the conversation going.

"I am not a vampire. My name is Vincent Valentine," the man told him with a flat voice. Yeah, right, Cloud though, you just have red eyes and sleep in a coffin. Of course he was a vampire, but maybe Vincent thought he was scared of him. Vampires had a pretty bad reputation, after all.

"I'm not scared of vampires so you don't have to lie," he told Vincent. He wondered if the man would want to visit him and his mother, because mother had seen many things in Midgar, but even she had never seen a vampire before.

"_Moon doesn't make monsters, curses or bad eye or blood doesn't make monsters. Science makes monsters and they aren't vampires,"_ his father said and Cloud could almost see him in his white lab coat, like the one her mother wore when she made stain remover or dish soap, and the red marks left by wearing splash goggles for hours. He bent to pick the flashlight, thinking about his father's words. Of course he knew his father didn't really talk to him, but he had a vivid imagination and at times like this he could almost make himself believe. Makonoids, he thought, maybe he had read about them from one of his mother's books. But Vincent didn't act like a makonoid at all since they ate people and Vincent wasn't even looking at his neck in an odd way. He just looked at him like he was being odd in general.

"Tell me," the man asked slowly, "have you ever heard of somebody named Sephiroth?"

Of course he had heard of Sephiroth! Everybody had heard of Sephiroth. He was the Silver General, the youngest person that ever made it to Soldier First Class, a tactical genius and the best swordsman ever, the one that could make a person even pity the fierce Wutaiian guerrillas a little. The war in Wutai had been going on as long as he could remember paying attention, not that it was necessarily that long because children mostly didn't pay attention to newspapers before they learned to read, but Sephiroth was impossible to ignore, like a force of nature. He happily told Vincent this, though he wasn't sure why the man got such a fierce glow to his eyes and why his mouth thinned to a straight line. He chattered away as they climbed the stairs and left the mansion behind them, walking through the clear-scented green wall into the nice, warm evening sun; he was surprised he had been down in the basement so long. He asked Vincent to come visit his mother and him and Vincent said yes. His mother looked at Vincent once and there were red spots burning on her cheeks. She made them the good stew with goat cheese and grilled onions and said yes when Vincent asked if he could stay a few days. The Shin-Ra mansion burned to the ground two nights after that. There had been an autumn storm and though no one had heard thunder, there had to have been lightning, or so the town elders decided. It was odd nobody suspected Vincent because they were unfair like that, always blaming the outsiders, but maybe no one but he and mother had seen him. Vincent could be really unobtrusive to the point of being almost invisible.

This wasn't the way Vincent Valentine remembered his awakening, but it didn't matter. He hadn't become a legendary Turk, in very small, exclusive circles, by not being able to keep secrets, whether the people whose secrets he kept knew they had any or not. His beloved's son was in the hands of the madman and he intended to save him by hook or by crook. He knew enough of the future to change it now.

* * *

Jenova didn't know death herself. Even Gaia via the shredded remnants of the Cetra could not kill her, but only bury her alive, seal her within the Northern Crater. Holy, Holy, most holy to cleanse the planet of all threats to it, regardless of their nature. Jenova was going to enjoy devouring it and stealing that protection. But there was only little Mako those days, acidic, mind-eating, too life-rich to bear Mako, condensed Lifestream, and only deep within Gaia's body. Now things are different. Now school is out early and soon she will be learning, and the lesson is how to die, taught by a man that assimilated monsters, directed by an adult in a child's body.

In Wutai the trigger is pulled, the mind-link between her and her son gets switched to overload as the queen calls for help, and no Wutaiian is going to leave with their lives today, she is taking them with her. For the first time in long aeons she is afraid and he can feel it, an echo of a Reunion to never come. And he can see no reasons for there are no reasons. What reason do you need to die?

* * *

Vincent Valentine didn't intend to stay with Cloud Strife and his mother Verhandi Strife, only regroup and get himself up to date with the circumstances, which seemed to include a rather bloody war in Wutai and Sephiroth, who had obviously started as a child soldier, damn Shin-Ra to the high hall of Hel, but Hojo was much quicker to react to the mysterious burning of the Shin-Ra mansion than he had deducted by the fact that the man had left the place entirely abandoned and vulnerable. At times he wondered if the man was some rare kind of idiot savant, that would explain his genius in all things with all things of natural sciences and startling lack of clue in other vital areas.

On the eight day when Cloud's eyes weren't so haunted, hopeful and determined any more, Hojo's seven Turks invited themselves to the dinner and Vincent Valentine killed six of them, two his old comrades that were so surprised to see him, it had barely taken any thought at all to get behind their defenses. Verhandi Strife had killed one. She could have easily lied about it, but Vincent doubted Hojo would have cared either way. Any potential witness would be eliminated. He owed Cloud for his assistance, for the life he had given him back, and he owed Verhandi for her kindness and active help, as unnecessary as it had been.

"I could protect you," he promised without much hope of it being accepted. Lucrecia hadn't accepted his protection and she had at least known who he was, the son of her mentor. He loved her with gentle longing and sharp pain, but at times he resented her for not trusting him to know what her best was. He had been the one in the know of the darker side of Shin-Ra and she knew it.

But Verhandi, with her sharp words, wild, golden hair, and blue eyes—not at all like kind Lucrecia of dark hair, dark eyes and the tendency to focus too much on her mistakes and still cling to them—said simply:

"You better keep that promise." Waste not, want not.

* * *

AN: High hall of Hel is no typo. Hel is a Norse goddess and the ruler of the realm of the dead where those that die of sickness or old age go, which is a much nastier place than Valhalla.


	3. Interlude I: Verhandi

**Interlude I: Verhandi**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

Verhandi Strife was mother of Cloud Strife, but what few children think is the story of life of their mothers. In all innocence they tend to assume that they are the purpose of life to their mothers and there are women like that, true. Then there are women who put themselves first, which often doesn't make them bad mothers at all, just emancipated; there are bad mothers in every category and only some mean to be. At last there are those who love their husbands more than anything. Once upon a time, there was a young woman who majored in Mako sciences in Siggeir Hall. It wasn't one of the best universities in Midgar, but it was the one she got a three year stipend for and she wasn't rich enough to be picky. Verhandi Wisteria was still from a good family, born and raised in a little village named Millettiae in Fabales Island. She was strong-willed and intelligent and fair, she had the makings to get further in life than any man there and she was a legend among the townswomen, famous or infamous depending on whom you talked to. She had fire, she had quality.

Once upon a time, she fell in love. Aske Strife was a junior scientist in Shin-Ra's Science Department and in Verhandi's eyes he had hung the moon and half of the stars. When Aske proposed newly graduated Verhandi he also told that he had received a promotion, but it required a transfer to the small town of Nibelheim, in Nibel region. Verhandi told him that if he hadn't proposed her there would have been a shotgun wedding, with her holding the shotgun. He laughed all the way to the cafeteria, telling her she was something else over and over again, and kept touching her belly with reverent fingers. In the end the wedding was a simple, quiet affair and the party afterwards anything but.

Every woman, however intelligent, needs to be a princess at least a day in their life, Verhandi knew. That day she was royalty.

A capable chemist, Verhandi began to earn money of her own after the childbirth by making cleaning products and other household chemicals, took care of adorable little Cloud and her husband who fit the bill for absentminded scientist perfectly. No marriage can be dancing on roses everyday, unless the thorns haven't been plucked out first. Despite their marriage and child Aske was rather solitary person. Verhandi emitted a faint sense of annoyance as she settled into Nibelheim, where the biggest news of the year was when an avalanche crushed the old Shepherd's barn, and Frigga forbid Verhandi didn't even know if that was the man's name or if he had been called Shepherd so long nobody remembered his real name anymore. Aske spent more time up in the reactor and Shin-Ra mansion than with her, now that she had regained her health and seemed capable of handling the baby on her own. But she shrugged it off willingly enough; she knew the lure of discovery, after all. It only bothered her because it took up so much of his time.

Maybe she was a bit much to the conventional villagers too, but all in all she was happy. Then, the day before Cloud's first birthday Aske was killed by a collapsing bridge.

That crushed Verhandi in a way she hadn't been able to even imagine. She couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat, she could barely feed Cloud. Cloud was the only reason she begun to eat after the funeral; she had to remain strong enough to take care of him. Come on, her neighbours told her you'll feel more able to do things once you take proper care of yourself. Verhandi noticed that they didn't say that she would feel better. She appreciated it; she didn't think she would feel better for a long, long time.

But time has mercy on the young and Verhandi was only twenty, barely bloomed into adulthood. She got over it, eventually, but she lived in solitude. There were propositions, for she was a beautiful, young woman with flourishing business, but after her clever, loving, infuriating, dearly missed Aske having any of those well-meaning but crude men would have been slumming. So Cloud grew up fatherless and the other children, with children's thoughtless cruelty, teased him about it. Verhandi knew Cloud would wish to leave Nibelheim as soon as he could and she fully intended to support him. She wanted him to get more from life than what the little backwater hole could offer, to find a place where he could shine in his own right. This was the way things were for nine years. Then, one day, Cloud brought home a strange, intimidating man with haunted, haunting red eyes, red cloak and odd glove of metal. He was nothing like Aske and Verhandi Strife fell for him like ton of bricks, the second time in her life.

She wasn't a naïve woman; the man reeked of trouble, she just couldn't help herself, giving him accommodation, just for few days. She wasn't a blind woman either, she could see her son was bothered by something, but before she could do anything about it he returned to his usual, content self. But the Shin-Ra mansion was burned to the ground, apparently because of a lightning hitting the roof, but the Turks came for them. She hadn't realized the man, Vincent Valentine, would be that much trouble and as she held the smoking gun and looked at the body in her feet, the bodies in his feet and the wide-eyed, scared stare of her son she thought she should be angrier than she was. She didn't really have to leave, though. There was no one to tell she had killed one of the attackers, too, she could have lied. She knew it was foolish to abandon a comfortable, safe life for someone who was so obviously still mourning for somebody else, especially since she had Cloud to consider too, but love makes people foolish and ten years in Nibelheim cold hadn't been enough to quench her fire.

I could protect you, Vincent promised with something brittle in his voice. The woman that left Nibelheim with her son, money, jewellery, clothes, small chemistry kit and little else was Verhandi Strife. The woman that arrived to Cosmo Canyon two years later was Verhandi Valentine.

When I'm dancing close to her  
"Blinding me with science - science!"  
I can smell the chemicals  
"Blinding me with science - science!"  
"Science!"  
"Science!"

Mmm - but it's poetry in motion  
And when she turned her eyes to me  
As deep as any ocean  
As sweet as any harmony  
Mmm - but she blinded me with science  
And failed me in geometry

* * *

AN: The lyrics are from She Blinded Me With Science by Thomas Dolby. I don't own them.


	4. Chapter II: Bad omens

**Chapter II: Bad omens**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

Cloud fired the last round of shots at a standing position with his new rifle, his first own gun, settled into the crook of his shoulder, the metal glowing golden in the soft afternoon sun. The gun was big for him, but Vincent had seen to it that his stepson could handle it with ease and use it with accuracy. Stepson, he thought with still unexpected pleasure. He had been afraid at first, when he had said "I do" to Verhandi, that he would come to compare Cloud to Sephiroth and treat him unfairly because of it. But earnest, eager-to-please Cloud and Sephiroth whom the intel described as intense and introvert to the extreme had little in common, and the fact remained that he had never come to know Lucrecia's son.

And then there was the other Cloud to consider, the one that had disappeared after few days of getting used to a child that walked like an adult and kept vigil with ease, whose eyes had the look he had seen in the mirror all too often, whose small hands had freed him from his prison. _The reactor was filled with makonoids, they were the failed versions of Sephiroth. He also found his "mother", Jenova, inside a tube there. And Nibelheim burned. I think he believed himself to be the descendant of the Ancients whom the humans had "betrayed"._ The boy-man's voice had been bitter, but he had spoken matter-of-factly. The appearance and reality contradicting had unbalanced him, stirred his instincts and uninvited guests, but the contradiction disappearing had upset him even more, his trained eyes looking for something that was no longer. But whoever this new son would turn out to be he wouldn't fail him like he had failed Sephiroth, wouldn't fail Verhandi like he had failed Lucrecia.

Vincent cocked his elongated pistol and fired, hitting dead center with practiced ease. As he did so, he considered the progression he had seen with Cloud. Like most new gun users he'd had difficulty taking recoil when Vincent had first given him the first gun he had fired, one of his own pistols. He had seen new Turk cadets getting smacked in the face with their own pistols and Soldier cadets actually crushing their ribs with rocket launchers. Cloud had been at disadvantage with his small built, but he had learned to take it smoothly very quickly. Now he automatically shifted his weight to accommodate for it, caught the backlash, and his accuracy was good at fifty yards.

"Good. We will switch to a hundred yards the next time," he told and Cloud smiled obviously pleased with himself. His pale complexion betrayed even the slightest flush on his cheeks. Cloud was turning out to be a fine marksman and he was learning to pick locks and slowly levelling his first Materia, but he would have made an abysmally bad Turk with his honest, open face.

"Are you done? The circus has called a time-out," he heard a melodic voice with a hint of frustration in it and turned around to Verhandi crossing the training yard, kickind dust up as she came. She had abandoned her white coat in favour of sleeveless blue shirt and black skirt, locks of her hair had escaped from the comb she had used to keep them down and she distracted him with ease. Verhandi was a middle-aged woman now and the two years on the road had acquired few creases around her eyes and mouth and the first grey hair the other day much to her disgust, but she was still impressive by any standard.

"Again?" It shouldn't have been so difficult to accept so simple a proposition.

"Fuhito is the one being difficult," she sighed and tried to flatten the escaped hair. "Elfé doen't need enhancing, but only she and you can match a Soldier as things are and she knows that's not good enough, what with the Fabales situation. Sears and Barrett are practically jumping up and down with glee, but Fuhito refuses to compromise. He's fighting a losing battle, though, and he knows it." She didn't sound very concerned, but Vincent, much more attuned to the uglier side of humanity, filed this new piece of information away.

The debacle had begun two days ago when Barrett, having returned from a mission that had very nearly ended with him and Sears taking a group of Soldiers Third Class on with the skin of his shoulders nearly scraped off entirely; they'd had to climb out of a window that sadly had been rather narrow. He had loudly and repeatedly complained how they needed to get enhancements also if they wanted to have a real shot at taking down Mako reactors. To which Verhandi had remarked that while she had no experience she had the decree.

Fuhito was the intellectual force behind Avalanche. Highly knowledgeable in not just matters of science, but also in tactical warfare, he was useful with conceiving unconventional tactical solutions and providing support from a strategic vantage, always calm and unfailingly polite to both his allies and enemies. He was also a fanatic whose plans took preservation of nature to the extreme. That he was refusing an important tactical edge on grounds of principles was highly curious behaviour. It might have been just Hojo-related distrust of scientists, but Vincent reminded himself that his enemy's enemy was his friend, but only for now.

"What have you heard of Fabales?" Cloud asked, disrupting his train of thought. As the minor of the group he would not fight unless their base was found and stormed before they could send him away, but that didn't rein his curiosity any. Vincent encouraged that curiosity whenever he could without compromising anything important; information was a weapon and one that could cut as deep as any sword.

"Shin-Ra has made no moves, but in a situation like this that is bad news. They are biding their time for a reason," he answered. There was no way their small, pacifistic rebellion would go unpunished. Verhandi ruffled Cloud's hair with fine, pale fingers.

"We will take care of this, you will concentrate on your studies. No son of mine is going to go uneducated, extracurricular eco-terrorist activities aside." At times like these Vincent relly wondered Verhandi's adaptability; this woman was a far cry from the housewife that had offered him a place to stay in Nibelheim. Like he at times worried about comparing Cloud to someone he had never even met in person he worried that he didn't give her enough credit, Lucrecia still owning a corner of his soul that he was beginning to think she would never relinquish. He thought about her more often than he maybe should, though in all fairness that was because he thought so much about Sephiroth and he remainded him of her. However, Verhandi had bluntly told him once that there was a reason she had insisted Cloud keep Aske's name even when she took a new one and it was good this way. It would have been reckless to give their hearts to someone who considered the last given to them disposable. Isn't it reckless to fall in love at first sight, he had asked and Verhandi had but smiled with sun behind her back and said: I never claimed to be otherwise.

* * *

Half an year ago Shin-Ra Electric Power Company had publicly announced its intention to build a new Mako reactor to the Fabales island where the continent's Lifestream well was close enough surface to make the enterprise profitable. Fabalesians, who had heard of the plan the first time, had been less than charmed since while Mako reactor on their ground would nearly halve the local energy prizes it would also come with several biohazards such as Mako-induced monsters and the lessened fertility of the ground, chances were there would also be a serious drop in the rain levels, which would be very bad indeed in such an agricultural province. The local authorities had threatened to sue if the plans were put in motion without consulting them first, Shin-Ra had supersided the local authorities and through very bad diplomacy the tension in the crisis area had increased to the point where Fabales had declared itself independent nation with all trappings, up to and including refusing to pay taxes to the Shin-Ra Corporal Federation Government.

Sephiroth read the report and read it again, just to make sure. Then he looked at Zack. The Soldier Third Class had dark shadows under his eyes.

"So this new country invaded us?" Not that Fabales evenwas a country by Shin-Ra standards since those standars could be summed up as "we recognize them as country" and Shin-Ra had refused, but that wouldn't keep them from interpreting the situation the most favourably way, for them, possible.

"Kind of," Zack said and gave him a grim smile. Sephiroth didn't like unprecise terms like kind of. Either you invaded a country or you didn't. How could you do it _kind of_?

"By accident?" He asked and was answered by a nod.

"How and why?" he asked. It was the most unwise action possible to take in a situation like this. Zack shrugged; he knew the how and why would matter very little now.

"It was dark, and somebody in that patrol of theirs was holding the map upside down, and, well, they crossed the not-border. The incident was completely non-violent."

Shin-Ra had a propaganda news service called Shin-Ra News. The main tools of this propaganda machine were to declare those considered disloyal to Shin-Ra dead and to considerably distort any and all events to Shin-Ra's favor. As an answer to Shin-Ra's lies, an anti-Shin-Ra news service called Shin-Ra Truths had appeared. Both of these had to be broadcasting furiously as they spoke and Sephiroth pointedly never attempted to find out who among the Soldiers was their informant. Sephiroth knew that his morals were not what most would consider socially acceptable; being created, raised and groomed to become a super-Soldier in a closed enviroment, all clinic, unfeeling white and violent Mako green, and being sent to lead a long, bloody was at the age of fourteen didn't make people with many scruples. This crisis, however, was unnecessary to the point of being completely ridiculous. Even pretending to care would have avoided the whole incident and he doubted Fabales had even a hundred men who knew how to use a gun, let alone who had ever pointed one at their fellow human.

"Fabales is not so much a real country as a group of discontents that pretend to be one. So, basically, their patrol got lost, apologized and went away?" Zack nodded again, his spiky, black hair falling to his eyes where he swatted it away irritated.

"Yeah. Seph, they aren't fighters, they didn't invade us, I doubt they would know how if they wanted and they would probably give up and give in if the Public Safety Maintenance Department just tried to negotiate." Sephiroth sighed. He knew Zack disliked any unnecessary violence, especially if the repicients weren't particularly vile and he hated disappointing his only friend.

"All right. I can accept that. But the president…" He didn't have to say they didn't have a say in it. At least it wouldn't be another Wutai. He could probably conquer the place in two days by himself. He could already smell the blood and smoke, spicy and oppressive.

* * *

Cloud had let his book drop to the ground and just lay in the grass, staring into the sky so blue it felt like it could swallow him. Cosmo Canyon, also known as the Valley of the Fallen Star, was a pilgrimage site to all who loved nature and very distracting. The air smelled green and rich, full of some kind of pollen and birdsong. Above all, it was a warm day. Cloud remembered when he had been eight one winter night the wind had broken the kitchen window. There had been no way of getting it fixed before morning so his mother had blocked it the best she could with oilcloth and quilts, her yellow nightgown and blue wintercoat billowing around her like the bell of an exotic medusa from one of the biology picture books Cloud couldn't read yet, but liked to look at. Despite her best efforts it had been a miserably cold night. The long road to Cosmo Canyon hadn't all been roughing it in the wilderness and frosty autumn nights, there had been very comfortable weeks and even months in little villages and towns, summer camping and a memorable half-a-year in Mideel, but all in all the fugitive mercenary life had just added to his adversion towards cold.

"Cloud! Have you seen your parents?" a loud voice bellowed and Cloud sit up and smiled to the man that marched towards him, the long grass divided like green waters of sea in front of an Ancient of old legends, though the man himself bore little resemblance to those allegedly pasifistic beings.

Barrett Wallace was a brash, gruff man with a short temper and a potty mouth and his intimidating looks, a huge black man with his mangled right arm replaced with his weapon, the Gun-Arm, tended to make people cross to the other side of the road when they saw him. But if you looked deeper into him you found out he had a good heart and a cottonwool fluffy place in it for children.

"I think they went to Bugenhagen. You know, about father's condition, not that they hope for much." As paifully as it had been bought, the shape-shifting ability was something Vincent wouldn't give up now, but Chaos was entirely different thing. Cloud understood perfectly; who would want a demon living in their head. The problem was, Lucrecia had been the one to summon Chaos into Vincent and Lucrecia was dead so no one knew if there was any way to expel it. Also, since Vincent had been kind of dead when Lucrecia had summoned Chaos, would exorcism kill his new father?

The thought of dead Vincent bothered Cloud a lot even though he could talk of it with past tense, or maybe because. It had happened once, it could happen again and Cloud felt a shiver go up and down his spine when he remembered the vampiric man he had found lying in a coffin. Maybe the man wasn't his biological father, but genetics were overrated anyway. Vincent wasn't a figment of his imagination, he was there and he made mother happy and taught Cloud important things. Cloud adored Vincent till no end.

"The Shin-Ra bastards have decided to claim that Fabales tried to invade them," Barrett grumbled and Cloud did a double take, his thoughts still with his father.

"They have what?" Fabales invading Shin-Ra was a laughable thought, but still not really funny. They thought they could get away with a lie like that? Or worse, did they know they could?

"Mother is from Fabales, originally. She moved to Nibelheim when she married first time," he mused aloud. Cloud didn't know if mother had any family there. He had always assumed not since mother never talked of them, but then again father always told to never assume. He tried to imagine a grandfather with spiky, grey hair that used to sit in a rocking chair smoking a pipe and a grandmother with wrinkly, gentle hands and clothes that smelled like cakes and pies, being chased away by Shin-Ra troops. He really didn't like the picture of Millettiae that in his mind bore great resemblance to Nibelheim burning. Barrett gave him an encouraging smirk and slapped him to the shoulder like he was a comrade in arms.

"Don't worry boy, we plan to make Shin-Ra's life hell for this. We'll run the Soldier bastards ragged and screw with the Turks' heads and blow the shit up. They won't have time to worry about attacking Fabales. And your mom's Mako plan got a go so we'll get to use their own weapons against them." He waved his hand and left for the observatory.

Cloud had conflicted feelings about Soldiers and this new situation didn't help any. They were Shin-Ra's military dogs and Cloud hated Shin-Ra in general and Hojo especially, but somehow he couldn't quite expel the small part of him that still went all silly and starry eyed when he heard of Soldiers and imagined if Mako eyes would glow soft and steady in dark like father's or if it was different. It probably had to do with his old hero Sephiroth. He never said it aloud since he knew it wouldn't be a popular opinion here, but he still admired Sephiroth and though the Silver General was a good, brave man that just had to take orders from nasty people. He would have berated himself for childishness and naivety except that father never said a word against Sephiroth either. Cloud thought it might have to do with Hojo since most of his father's complexes had.


	5. Chapter III: Science is evil

**Chapter III: Science is evil, except when not**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

It is bad to have a cancer, but what is it like to know you are one? Or part of one, one cell gone haywire among many others, killing the whole. Fuhito's mother had died of leukemia when he had been thirteen. It had happened so gradually no one had understood to be worried until after Funaho had already become a pale wreck. She had suffered from weakness and fatigue no matter how much she ate and slept and she lost an ounce after once of weight, the lightest touch would create an ugly, angry, purple bruise and she kept her room always dark, suffering from terrible headaches. She had gone through the painful _induction chemotherapy _and _intensification therapy _just to die anyway. And as an icing on a spoiled cupcake little Fuhito had decided to become a scientist and find a cure to the cancer so nobody had to die because their body rebelled against them anymore, only to find out he was a cancer.

And now Verhandi Valentine, who with her possessed husband has invaded their core group, has offered them Mako, like Gaia really needs any more oncogenes. Cancer-promoting oncogenes; they typically activate in cancer cells, giving those cells new properties: hyperactive growth and division, protection against programmed cell death, loss of respect for normal tissue boundaries, and the ability to become established in diverse tissue environments. Just like humanity.

Truth be told, that isn't the reason he resists the idea so furiously. Draining even more of the Lifestream for them goes against what they believed in, but Fuhito is a realist. What little they would take would barely be a drop from a sea and if it enabled them to permanently shut down even one Mako reactor it would more than be worth it; at times you had to hurt to heal. But his plan demanded that Elfé be the only superhuman among them, the only one strong enough to send after Sephiroth. So useful she couldn't afford to give up Zirconiade even when the side effect would inevitably begin to show. He needs the Ultimate Summon. But that part had already been compromised when Vincent Valentine showed up, damn professor Hojo for interfering with his plans. But he can adapt. He is good at adapting. All people should be returned to the Planet in order to stop the harming of the Planet and let it heal and they would be returned, one way or any other.

* * *

The carpet under his feet was neutral light grey and well used and Reeve Tuesti was staring it like it was something interesting. The Head of Urban Development had been summoned to the office of the Head of the Investigation Sector of the General Affairs Department, commonly known as Veld of the Turks, and he was definitely nervous. There wasn't a good kind of interest one could receive from the leader of the Turks, only the "I can use you" and "Oh hell" subcategories and merely the fact that he had never done anything against Shin-Ra despite his unpopular environmentalist views kept him from bolting. That and the fact that he wouldn't get far. He twitched when a tall, bald man with a little goatee and sunglasses opened the door to Veld's office.

"Veld will see you now," he said neutrally and left the room without further ado, thankfully leaving it to Reeve to get himself to the appointment.

The room wasn't what he had expected. It didn't have windows, true, but it was light and official, complete with Shin-Ra military issue desk with stainless steel legs and navy blue office chairs that Reeve suspected had been color-coordinated with those blue suits. Veld himself emitted exactly the stern, cold aura Reeve had always associated with the Turk leader and his looks weren't unimpressive either, a ruggedly handsome face with a scar on his left cheek and a way to carry himself that made the suit turn him into a gentleman pirate rather than a businessman. He was left with the impression of a grand baroque painting put into a modern plastic frame.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked nervously, wanting to break the silence and the intense stare of those cold eyes.

"Yes. I am under the impression that you are working with a project called Cait Sith." Straight to the business, then.

Reeve wanted to know what was the reality a suit from the Shin-Ra Council Board would never get to see on his own, would never be allowed to go on his own to see and he guiltily also admitted to a wish to wander down to the cluttered, smoky slums that vibrated life and dirty colors without fear, without having to fear for his life, to be stronger than his soft, placid body allowed. For this purpose the master engineer had begun to build an alter ego for himself. Cait Sith was to be a fortune-telling anthropomorphic robotic cat, just over three feet in height and with short black fur and a white stomach and face. He would wear a short red cape tied around his neck and white gloves and a small crown. He would also ride a pink robotic moogle. It was absurd, true, but absurd would make Cait Sith seem harmless and innocent. He would attract attention to avoid anyone paying attention to anything beyond the looks. It was just beginning to seem that Veld thought him a threat to the security, maybe even a discontent plant, and that was going to be bad. I can stop this if you want, he wanted to say, but Veld hadn't ceased to talk yet.

"The design you have chosen is patently absurd. Make it a realistic-looking cat," he told Reeve.

"Er?" Reeve tried to ask but only came up with only a small noise. He had understood every word, but in the context the whole made no sense.

"You may leave now," Veld said and it was an obvious command. Reeve nodded, babbled something and left the office, and the whole Turk department, with relieved haste. And even then, as he stared the plain beige wall just outside his office and ignored the odd stares he was getting from his red-haired cerberus of a secretary, he knew he wasn't off the hook yet. This was still going to be bad.

He could see the cat robot in his mind, a black and white stray cat, adorably cross-eyed. But it would be too small to fight effectively. Maybe a cougar would do. He would have to ask the next time he felt up to facing Veld again. He wondered why he felt so cold.

When Veld knew he was alone again he let a small sigh escape his chest and leaned to the desk. The smooth, cool wood felt good against his hands and calmed him a little. The problem with making wanted posters for Avalanche, other than the fact that they had a ridiculous amount of cannon fodder members, all of Sears' old gang and then some, was that the pictures they had managed to get from the core group were all bad quality. Blurry photos taken when the terrorists had been running or speeding, photos taken from awkward angles, black and white low-quality security camera material, photos so small that they became a useless mass of skin-colored pixels when they tried to make a picture of decent size for a poster. For a remarkably long time the leader of the Turks hadn't even known what the Avalanche leader looked like. Then one artistically inclined Turk had witnessed Elfé taking a small blond boy to a trading post and Veld had asked her to draw a picture.

"What would you have done, Vincent?" he mused aloud, but had a feeling that even his deceased partner couldn't have helped him with this. Vincent had had no family.

* * *

"Why are they doing this?" Aeris asked her mother. Her second mother, but she didn't really think of her as such. If she did she had to also think what had happened to the first mother and she didn't want to. She knew it was childish, but then again she was a child. Getting to be childish was one of the perks. It was a lovely day, the sun was bright even in the Sector 5 slum, lighting up the hair around her face as they walked down the streets of Midgar. She felt rather pretty.

"Why do who do what?" Elmyra Gainsborough asked. At times Aeris forgot that she couldn't touch like her, feel like her, that her mother wasn't like her at all. Around them was a hungry void that was grasping at her fingers like a starving dog, but she had so little to give, so little precious green energy and the bright light around them warmed the skin, but it begot no life. All that energy went to waste so people would have lights they could just switch on in their houses. They too had a very innocent-looing switch in their living room, but Aeris had never used it.

"Why is Shin-Ra draining all the life from the Planet? Don't they understand they are killing themselves, also?" Even if they couldn feel they still had the eyes to see. The land around the city was sad brown and grey wasteland, all stone and sand and slowly dying grass. Even rain could not revive it, not that rain was going to fall there either. Mother got hat look in her face again, the one that told Aeris she shouldn't talk like that in public, but it was hard to censor herself every moment of every day when she could feel the Planet's suffering. Gaia, a voice in her dream had whispered, the Planet's name was Gaia.

"It gives them energy now, they are rich enough to import their goods from the fertile areas now, and they won't care about what happens after their death. They won't be here to suffer the consequences; it's the unclean spawn of science and business. But be quiet, this is dangerous talk," mother whispered hastily and gripped her small hand in her callused one, walking quicker for a while. It kind of embarrassed her; she had passed the age where mothers hold their daughters' hand long ago.

"I saw a funny dream last night. A man fell through the roof into my room. Well, it wasn't really my room, but in the dream it was. There were flowers everywhere," she changed the topic, except not really. She so wanted to have a garden, full of red and pink and yellow roses, small, delicate forget-me-nots, azaleas she would probably have to water with coffee every once in a while to keep the Midgar soil acidic enough and foxgloves, purple, fine flowers foxes could wear when they didn't want to freeze their soft paws during winter. People said that nothing would grow in Midgar except moss and algae.

"I hope he apologized," mother said with warm amusement. Aeris liked it when her mother was happy.

"He mistook himself as being in heaven at first and me as an angel, but I told him that wasn't it. He asked me for a date as a thank you for saving him, but I said no. But I showed him around all the same and he bought me a pink hair ribbon." The man had also had Mako eyes, but Aeris didn't tell that. Her mother didn't like Soldiers at all or anything associated with Shin-Ra. Aeris hated Shin-Ra Corporation too, but she wasn't so sure about the people that worked for it. Surely most of them just didn't know any better. Besides, those people had Mako infused into them and Mako was made of Gaia's blood; a swell of souls, a river of the dead's memories. Surely no one could be all evil while carrying Gaia's blood within theirs. They just needed somebody to help them hear.

They turned from a corner and saw a man in red shirt in a small vendor's stall selling blazed sugar almonds. The scent was deliciously rich and Aeris felt her mouth watering. She turned to give her mother a pleading look, but when she looked into her mother's sad, brown eyes she knew she didn't have to. She hadn't really fooled her for a second.

"Would you like it if I bought you some?" Elmyra asked and Aeris gave her a brilliant smile. It wasn't that she was lying. Aeris had merely learned that she could be sad and terrified about large machines built to forcibly steal the Lifestream from the very earth and still be happy about blazed almond, and that she could choose which emotion to show. She didn't want to worry her mother so she let the joy through like sunlight through the plate and higher buildings. The paper wrapping was nice and warm against her fingers; the taste was strong and made her a little bit thirsty.

"Thank you," she said and meant it.

She enjoyed the bars of almond sweets wrapped in brilliantly coloured paper, but they couldn't make it better. Then again, maybe she could one day. She would only have to learn to understand herself and Gaia better.

* * *

AN: About people's ages, because I'm afraid I'm confusing you. In my Midgar the legal adult age is sixteen.

Cloud: twelve, which is why it will be such a long time before the romance part of the story begins.

Zack: eighteen. He became a cadet at sixteen and a Soldier Third Class at seventeen.

Aeris: thirteen. This romance will also be long time in coming.

Sephiroth: nineteen. He was sent to Wutai when he was fourteen; ergo Shin-Ra is not above using child soldiers.


	6. Chapter IV: Terrorist activity

**Chapter IV: Terrorist activity**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit

* * *

Sears trudged back into their stationary camp after the diversionary battle with the Shin-Ra squad just before the sun set. His group was victorious, but tired, in need of potions and bandages and concerned about their twin group and the strike force, Elfé, Barrett and Vincent Valentine. The pale ex-Turk going with Elfé unnerved him and now that his own mission was completed he felt the tension that much keener. Of course he knew that despite her modest, mild-mannered appearance Elfé didn't need no help, would have probably ended up saving him if things had gone badly, but he couldn't help himself. The man was just creepy, a potential plant even and he didn't know how Verhandi and the kid weren't creeped out by him. Shiva forbid, did he ever take that talon-glove-thing out? Even in bed?

The camp was an abandoned house in the Midgar Sector 3 slum, a true wretch of a building with all windows broken into dirty jagged shards that circled the opening like monster fangs would a jaw, the roof leaking from the pipes above the house and the walls cluttered with angry red graffiti. They had promptly set up their tents and air beds inside and used Bunsen burners to cook and heat water since the building was only good for hiding them from curious eyes. His tent was in a room that probably used to be a kitchen though the stove was obviously stolen and Sears wondered if there ever had been fridge in the first place.

"I'm sure everyone's okay, not like we had to play hero," Donald said to him, seeing the tight look on the group leader's face. There was much comfort in working with a person you had known so long you just fit together without an effort.

"Yeah, Elfé's the one with the dangerous job and she's a damn force of nature," Donna added helpfully, rubbing her wrist gingerly and ever-infatuated Hákon trodded behind her so frustrated by his lack of potions his face twitched in amusing ways. Luckily her wrist wasn't swollen so it wasn't sprained either, but it was red and tender-looking.

"I know. I just want to make sure before I'm gonna get my potion." Sears smiled, but it was wan. His boots thudded heavily on the cobblestones. Then he saw a flash of light from the house, the living, red light of fire, throwing everything into stark relief for a moment. He quickened his pace; he was nearly there.

"Sears!" Ulises called from the doorway. He had band aids around every finger in his right hand and his brown curls, which he usually kept groomed to the point of being dandyish, were a sweaty mess, but then again Sears was sure he had seen better days too, his stubble grown out and his once green shirt now an odd shade of gray. Ulises ushered him inside, handing him a steaming mug of thick soup. It tasted bland, but was heavenly hot.

"Thanks, Ulises. Is everyone okay?" Sears looked around the room. Pœga, who shared the dark green military issue tent with him, had already returned and was sitting on his heels, wiping his brow with his red bandanna, his mouth a thin, fierce line. Ciddi was at his makeshift worktable, capable hands oiling his gun on automaton. He was from a Fabalesian village Sears couldn't remember the name of and his posture hadn't relaxed since his old home had made the headlines.

"How about Donald and Donna and Hákon?" It wasn't an answer.

"We are all okay. I just wanted to check on things after the battle." Sears' gaze swept the room once more. Maybe they were sleeping the potions off in their tents, but his throat felt tight.

"Where are Harper and Leon C?" He hated this, truly hated.

"They are…" Pœga clasped his hands angrily together. "General Sephiroth showed up during the battle." He would have never admitted to it, but Sears had nightmares of silver hair and a blade ridiculously long at times. He had a feeling that so did everyone else, except maybe Fuhito, who was harder to upset that your average rock.

"What?" His mouth fell open, and he nearly dropped his soup mug. "What was he doing there?"

The whole thing, it turned out, had been sheer bad luck. Reeve Tuesti, the designer of the Mako reactors in Midgar, had been called to consult the maintenance crew in Sector 5 reactor because of some glitch, but the Demon General had had some use for Tuesti too, and no patience. Harper and Leon C had barely had enough time to call a warning before they had been cut down, literally. What was left of diversion group two had fled immediately.

"That Soldier cunt," Pœga swore with wet eyes. They had all been from Sears' old bandit gang from time before Avalanche. He felt exactly the same.

"We will have revenge," He said with dark satisfaction, "we all know where Elfé's group is and doing what." If they were lucky the Bastard General had already returned to report the successful thwarting of terrorist activity.

* * *

Diversion group one had created a diversion in the reactor of Sector 1 for diversion group two, which had pretended to be the main strike force. Their true objective had been to thoroughly draw any and all attention away from the Shin-Ra's front yard.

Much of Vincent's tactical knowledge of Shin-Ra organization was outdated, but the Deepground still existed and he had once been high enough in the Turk food chain to be let into that particular secret. Today Deepground was known to be connected to now deceased Genesis Rhapsodos, though even Vincent hadn't heard many details. Deepground had become an experimentation ground because of his evolution, and that all the Tsviets, an elite group of soldiers, had been spliced with his genes. The Tsviets were apparently quite dangerous, maybe not as dangerous as Sephiroth, but attacking their base head-on with only force of three would have been a suicide by Soldier. However, there were other ways to make their displeasure about the Fabales situation known. After this Shin-Ra wouldn't remember Fabales for months. It would be the witch hunt of all times. They knew it and they were ready to take the risk.

His risk wasn't for Fabales, though he wasn't completely indifferent. Vincent only wanted whatever retribution he could wring while waiting for a chance to meet professor Hojo one last time. The daydream dyed his vision red and black like Chaos.

* * *

Cosmo Canyon was more than just any little town, it was an old-fashioned nature-loving community, made up of close-knit people most of whom lived there their whole life and their family had lived on the area for generations, but still eager to accept newcomers and convert them to their easy-going way of life. It was like a hippy fluffy-kitty version of Nibelheim. Until now she had had very much free time and every day she could, shortly after the dinner and before the sun was to descend and paint the clouds golden and red and earthly okra, Verhandi would go to the market for fresh fruits. For all that cooking and baking was said to be chemistry applied in kitchen she didn't enjoy it a bit, but she made up for the lack of homely cookies, pies and other pastries with sticky, delicious caramel apples and mountains of sugared oranges and grapefruits. Cloud knew that his mother considered the place a healthy environment and good influence on him. Some of the things his-to-be faction got up to not so much, but she dealt.

"No, I will not give you the treatment before you are sixteen," she told him the umpteenth time. By now Cloud had realized that there was no changing her mind, but he still didn't understand why her reason was supposed to be a good one.

"Why not? It's not like I'm going to go for missions anytime soon, but this way I would be ready and enhanced by the time I turned sixteen," he defended his case. Mother's mouth did that thing, the same it had done when she had ran for the gun in the drawer in their old home when the Turks had come, cool and uncaring in their blue suits, and he sighed. If he hadn't known it was a lost case before he would have now.

"Because you are not of age to make such a major decision that will influence your entire life. Mako in your system is a serious thing, mister, because once it's been infused there is no way to get it out." Mother just didn't get it. He wasn't afraid, hadn't been after that night in Nibelheim when their new houseguest had killed the Turks sent to kill him, he felt a tinge of unease in his stomach when he remembered the red blood that had clotted to black before they could get to leave, but he ignored it.

The argument had ended with mother telling him to make use of his childhood as long as he had it, but she hadn't said with whom and so Cloud went to the birdhouse to sulk. Mrs Willowgreen's blackbirds were all silent and sleepy, but the small, black creatures on their roosts in the middle of bonsai trees that bloomed white and purple were still very nice and the retired postwoman, Avalanche's closest neighbour, had told him he was always welcome. He had meant to practice with the new lock, but felt oddly lazy. It was a warm day with a distant promise of gentle rain.

He was merely sitting against the wall doing nothing when he heard singing. The small rhyme, repeated over and over, drew him to the window. Outside were four girls playing something that involved hopping around on one leg, from sector to sector drawn to the dirt. Children usually moved unlike adults. Cloud suspected that he was an exception to this rule to some extent, but the girls were so open and much, without any self-cencorship.

"One for sorrow, two for joy," the children were singing. They were all girls, but maybe they would let him play with them a little. One of them had a braid tied with pink ribbons and that made him feel warm for no reason at all. They all were having fun and he was all too used to watching that from the outside. In Nibelheim he hadn't had any real friends and after that he hadn't had time to get any, or he hadn't wanted to make one just to leave them again. But they were going to stay in this beautiful place and he guessed adults weren't the same thing.

"Three for a girl, four for a boy, five for humankind, six for the Cetra of old," the girls sang and Cloud went looking for his shoes. This time wouldn't have to lie, either, which was good because he was a lousy liar when he didn't have the time to prepare a story; improvisation wasn't his best trait when dealing with words. In Cosmo Canyon Avalanche was inevitably a public secret; everybody knew or at least guessed, but they weren't talking. In Cosmo Canyon Shin-Ra was very much an entity non-grata and the freedom fighters secretly respected. Cloud could barely wait to turn sixteen and be allowed into actual operations, that would be so cool and he would get to help his father too. Cloud had already committed himself to getting Hojo's head on the proverbial silver platter with the proverbial apple in his mouth, but there was nothing to do about his age except wait it out. The children were still singing when he went outside, their voices rang like bells.

"Seven for secrets of state never to be told."

* * *

Sephiroth was frustrated with the battle; it had ended practically before it even begun, leaving him full of adrenalin and unnerved, because in Wutai something that looked too easy to be true usually was and no matter how much he tried to convince his instincts that this was the heart of the Shin-Ra corporal empire and his opponents merely violent discontents with little skill or finesse he was tense and vigil. Zack Fair, his irreverent and rather refreshing aide, didn't seem concerned. He was in fact fairly vibrating with excess energy, the brief run-in with Avalanche grunts leaving him in high spirits even though he hadn't even got to fight. And he was complaining about that, but Sephiroth still had a feeling that the younger man was however content that the terrorists had understood when they were beaten and he could approve the principle if not the people who had applied it. The world could bee run much easily if more people, in higher places, showed even little common sense.

Logic was the study of the principles of valid demonstration and inference. Deductive logic was reasoning which used deductive arguments to move from given statements to conclusions, which must be true if the premises were true. It wasn't that hard to do, really.

"Man, makes me almost hope we bump into some monster en route to the stationary camp next week," the man complained to Sephiroth's neutral, military grey wall, for once ignoring why they would go there. He looked very much out of place in his well-ordered office, a blur of restless movement and tannned skin.

"That is an unlikely event," he stated the obvious. Maybe it was reflex made Zack whirl around to face an unexpected voice, but it was just him that made him smile at it; being grinned at like he had just fulfilled somebody's highest expectations by basically just standing there and breathing used to take Sephiroth aback, but now he was resigned to the enthusiasm, barely arching a brow over Zack's antics. Zack's grin flashed white, friendly, but full of teeth and it was times like these when Sephiroth worried about himself. It was such an animal response to a perfectly acceptable and even desirable social gesture.

"What do you think, if a pirate and a ninja fought who would win?" Zack asked. Sephiroth had no idea what he was supposed to say to that and he had a feeling that this time it wasn't just because he had been raised by people who considered human interaction science. He decided that maybe taking the black-haired man's question at face value would be the best answer and thought about it. Wutaiian ninjas were painstakingly trained in the practice of guerrilla warfare, assassinations and undercover espionage operations. Pirates tended to be an undisciplined lot, as refined a club compared to the dagger that were ninjas. He had fought against many of them and respected them quite a lot as he killed them, freed them from the wet, fiery, green hell that was jungle warfare.

"The ninja, definitely. Though I don't pretend to understand the way your mind works, coming up with these questions. What is their purpose?" It frustrated him till no end when he couldn't understand the motives of people around him. Of course the spiky-haired man completely ignored his question. He was gesturing with his hands as he talked, like the topic he was conversing was too large to interpret with only words. Oh the irony, considering what the topic was.

"We fought against those airship pirates in Rocket Town, remember. They were tough cookies," Zack explained voice full of satisfaction. The day was dim and damp behind the window, but he fairly glowed all the same.

"How would you know whether pirates are harder to kill or not if you have never fought a ninja?" Sephiroth asked. He knew very well who and what his aide had pitted himself against and he couldn't believe he was arguing about this; conversations with Zack tended to get well and truly out of his control.

"Does Maarit Monrepos count?" Zack asked thoughtfully. He thumped the heels of his boots against the side of the house and leaned against the windowsill. His grin was very much lopsided.

"She was an assassin so that's kinda like ninja, but her electro-mag rod was pink. With rhinestones. Does overwhelming cuteness cancel ninjutsu?" There had been no ninjutsu involved, but that obviously wasn't what Zack had asked. Sephiroth was going to answer with negative when an explosion shook the floor under them and the lights went out.


	7. Interlude II: Hojo

**Interlude II: Hojo**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

When Hojo was a child his parents gave him a chemistry kit. He could build a small fire extinguisher and make water flow uphill in his childish experiments with air pressure. Make dazzling colors in flame tests and produce electricity in a test tube. After he had little lab experience he learned how to use the alcohol burner and perform experiments that required heat.

Separate mixtures, add carbon dioxide to water and produce oxygen gas from hydrogen peroxide. Experiment with fuels and combustion. Make hydrochloric acid. But you don't really care for science, do you? This is how it goes: experiment and repeat it, it must be repeatable, a minor setback, a major success, a firm creator demanding a hallelujah from his subjects.

He understood science; the laws of nature were predictable and not breakable. You could create a machine that flied, but you couldn't stop the mass of the Planet from attracting it, from lending it weight. People were different. When Hojo was a child he looked into his mother's eyes and saw nothing there. If he didn't have uncontroversial proof that her mother was a real person like he was, how could he ever be sure? People were fickle and fleeting, no law could control their behavioural patterns and no threat of punishment reliably discourage them. He had never felt remorse so how was he supposed to know it existed? Maybe it was all some big joke that was being played on him.

That was Hojo as a child. Later he realised that people were people indeed, it just wasn't worth a thing, and whatever they felt influenced their surroundings so it was real too. He was supposed to care. He didn't. At times he wondered if he was broken somehow or the only sane man on the Planet.

He was from a wealthy family and could afford the best education Midgar had to offer. His time was the time of change, a new, clean energy source had been found to replace the old pollutants and all that was needed was the equipment to efficiently harvest to source; the Lifestream. There were those who talked against it, calling harvesting the Planet's blood a sacrilege. Hojo was amused; as strong as their faith was they needed proof to stop Shin-Ra and how would you prove faith? Dissect a brain and you won't find an ounce of faith, no more than you could find soul or love.

In the end Hojo married Lucrecia Crescent to keep his rights to her time. She had been his assistant for a while, she was a brilliant scientist and he wanted to give no one else control over her schedule. He knew she didn't love him, not really, but intangibles were bad reasons to give yourself over in any case. What was love? There were several types of chemistry required in romantic relationships. A variety of different neurochemical processes and external stimuli had to click in the right complex and the right sequence for someone to fall in love. Pheromones were unlearned, and perhaps unsmellable, signals that enter the brain through the olfactory system that could function in sex as well as in alarm, territoriality, aggression and fear. Two related brain peptides, vasopressin and oxytocin, had been shown to be involved in both the permanent or long-term social bonding that underlies mating.

Love was a scientific phenomenon outside his field of expertise. Then he got involved with the Jenova project.

Many of the scientists working under Gast shivered when they first laid eyes on her, despite their supposed professionalism, but to Hojo she was never anything but beautiful; she was a force of nature that wore a human face, a being like praying mantis or a great spider, insectoid mind, a being that could drink the whole planet dry. Reunion,he had asked in purple dreams of her, visions of violence he never fully remembered when awake. Parts have separated from my main body a million times_,_ she told him, exerting tendrils of thought and power through his mind; he also had accepted parts of her within. One day they all will Reunite in me and I will know what they have learned_._It was a wonderful phenomenon and when Hojo woke what he first thought and wrote up were theories, his mind calm like ice and entirely professional. It wasn't love, but it was close enough.

His skills were varied, but he needed proof, and he saw the creature that wasn't an Ancient bath other being in her genome and the utilitarian beauty of it overtook him. It wasn't enough to destroy the world for her; he had no other place to live in after all. When he built a son to occupy her thoughts he knew what she would try to do, but he also knew he could keep the control of the situation. He created a Soldier like no other to prove he could, who would become a walking mass of complexes, but universally calm and collected all the same. He had to sell the idea to Shin-Ra so he sold the boy. Lucrecia would eventually die, but she was replaceable. A Turk got involved so he removed him, gaining a fascinating specimen, and how the man writhed under his scalpel and needles, how he morphed and mutated for him, and inexplicably for Lucrecia. He would have demanded to know how she did it, but her life was spent for Project Jenova before he could. The Cetra wife of the fool, Gast, called him a godless man, but there were no gods other than humankind and the one precious Gem from the sky.

But times change and circumstances change. Somehow that blasted Turk escaped his prison and destroyed her, sleeping in her glass cradle, and so destroyed his one purpose in life. For long months he was a broken, beaten man, placidly going through the motions Shin-Ra demanded from him, but eventually his head cleared enough and he realised the obvious. He realised he still had the Soldier.

He had infused every Soldier with Jenova cells in addition to Mako. With the exception of Sephiroth no one had much, and even Sephiroth didn't have quite enough on his own, but just maybe all those taken over organisms together would be enough to create a Reunion like never before, a birth of new Jenova. The cells didn't have a main body to return into any more, but he had enough samples to create one by cloning; the cell age and the shortening of telomeres wasn't exactly a problem with a creature that had none. The original Jenova would in all likelihood be unrivalled when it came to mind and instinct, but the Nova Jenova could come close on pure, mechanical perfection.

When is a game not a game? When it's played for keeps and Hojo had played god for a long time. You may say he took that name in vain when for him it was only a metaphor. But if he did, well, what is it to us? It didn't matter to him whether the hallelujah was holy or forced.

Making two possibilities a reality  
Predicting the future of things we all know  
Fighting off the diseased programming  
Of centuries, centuries, centuries, centuries  
Science fails to recognise the single most  
Potent element of human existence  
Letting the reigns go to the unfolding  
Is faith, faith, faith, faith

* * *

AN: Lyrics are from Science by System Of A Down. I don't own them.

Now I only have to come up with a reason for Lucrecia to marry this maniac. Oh joy!


	8. Chapter V: First meeting, Zack and Cloud

**Chapter V: First meeting, Zack and Cloud**

Disclaimer: Not mine, and I make no profit.

* * *

The beginning day was smooth and crisp like an apple cider and the clouds thin and high in the sky. The autumn morning in Cosmo Canyon was lovely, especially in how the rising sun in the horizon made the red and clear golden leaves shine like they were in fire and how the Cosmo Candle against the sky blue complimented the fiery theme. The serenity of the scenery was broken when a sleepy Soldier walked into a bar. Stop me if you have heard this before, he thought.

"Wake up, Zack. Didn't you spend enough time there yesterday?" Renata Saint Cloud smirked. Zack rubbed his forehead and glared at the woman in Shin-Ra blue. It wasn't a good morning for him, however beautiful.

"Yeah, laugh at the misery of a fellow Soldier," he grumbled good-naturedly and wished Mako would protect from hangover as well as illness, or at least not render most painkillers ineffective. The three regulars hovering behind them looked like they desperately wanted to laugh, but were too scared to do so and he grinned at them to put them at ease. Zack couldn't understand where the rumours about Soldier temper had originated. Most of those that made it to the Soldier were rather easy-going by military standards, with nothing to prove to anyone, and even those of stiffer make like a certain General-who-shall-not-be-named were patently hard to rile up even if they were easy to annoy. He should know. He got away with lack of decorum and respect in a daily basis.

Except when he had been sent to this wild goose chase and wasn't he glad it was over now and he could get to do something useful; things had been pretty heated during the months after the Deepground incident and didn't seem to be dying down any. The inhabitants of Cosmo Canyon were renowned for their environmentalist ways, but they were also very peaceful and quiet people, content with their lot in life. Zack could understand; the air was so pure there and the very place felt inexplicably nice in a way that had nothing to do with people; it even calmed his pounding head a little. It was a very harmonic piece of the Planet and he found himself wishing there were no possibilities to harvest Lifestream. Not that Shin-Ra would do anything about it anytime soon even if it were so; they had a nastier fish to fry now.

"You think this place is really as nice and harmless as it seems?" Renata asked him with feeble suspicion. Being born under the Plate would have made anyone cynic and she was probably fighting her ease out of sheer principle.

"There are no rumours," he answered. One thing he had learned very quickly was that someone always talked, even in Wutai and there the hatred felt towards Shin-Ra had truly been something else, making his two month peace-keeping mission the tensest ever and pinpricks crawl over his skin every time he went to patrol. Somebody was always the opportunist.

Besides, how dangerous secrets could people who believed in pretty pink and blue energy crystals and biodynamic cultivation harbour? Maybe they could buy curry noodles from some corner stall on their way to the Cat Tail Trail if any were open this early, he really craved something salty. Was there a red and white striped awning?

* * *

Cloud was not a morning person. He didn't sleep until noon either, true, but he though silently that if Gaia had meant for people to get up so early she would have made it easier. But when Hákon stumbled into his room and shook him awake, telling him to dress immediately and follow him he didn't whine, remembering those times on the road or temporary hide-outs when father would shook him and mother like that and tell them to be very quiet; once that hadn't even been enough and Cloud had gotten to see Galian Beast in all his flurry, lethal glory, and so he now run downstairs to find his mother tying her shoes. Adrenalin was a good way to banish sleep and he was awakened for good when a silent knock warned them before Elfé and Fuhito walked into their house, not removing their boots. In the pale morning light Fuhito was white like ghost in his labcoat and Elfé's face was grim.

"We have a problem," Elfé told them gravely. She stood collected and determined like always before mission, brown locks tied to a loose knot at the back of her neck.

"The Shin-Ra scouting and espionage group has decided to take the Cat Tail Trail when they leave today. Old woman Kiciu sent Piekna to warn us; she'll delay them as long as she can, but cooking noodles and making supply sandwiches can only take so long. If they take the route, they can not help but notice our premises. We could take them by surprise and kill them, but Shin-Ra would then know where we hide anyway," she told them simply and she didn't need to remind them that most of them were away on different mission anyway, father included. Cloud swallowed his fear and lifted his chin. They had been far from happy with the situation when the scouting group had arrived, but at least they hadn't seemed to be too serious about their suspicions and their Headquarters were well hidden. The place wasn't totally isolated, but their neighbours were few and the area well sheltered and Gaia only knew what possessed those Soldiers to choose Cat Tail Trail; it was the shortest way, but also rough hiking, barely travellable at all. Then again, it probably was a walk in a park for Soldiers, complete with red and yellow flower beds and white wooden benches and ice cream stalls. But one reason or another, Elfé wouldn't have called him and mother if she didn't think they could do something.

"What you need us to do?" he asked and the trepidation was replaced with a thrill singing through his bones and he tried but couldn't help an eager smile. He could do something already!

"And how dangerous it is?" Verhandi asked, her grip from Cloud's shoulder tightening. Her body was practically vibrating also, but with nothing as nice as thrill. Cloud put his smaller hand on his mother's and gripped in a way he hoped was encouraging.

"The only way to avoid having to evacuate the base is to keep them from taking this route," Fuhito was the one who answered; he had probably been the one to come up with the plan anyway. His voice was cool, but kind, professional and confident.

"Our best shot is to rule them to take the shortcut at the curve before the rise, but since that is even harder way we need an incentive and this is where you Cloud can help us. We will take you up that path and lower Cloud to some small cliff. Then you, a terrified mother, will meet with the Soldiers and their troopers when they near the crossroads and beg for their help. Now, this isn't as foolproof as I would like; we can not be sure that they will all choose to follow you, or that they will help at all, but if they do they won't hike back down that close to the Midgar Road."

It was a good plan and one that wouldn't put Cloud to any risk, other than getting stiff legs from having to crouch on some cliff waiting for the cavalry.

"I can do that. Mother?" he turned to look at mother, pleading with his big, blue eyes the best he could. She didn't look happy at all, Cloud noticed, but wondrously she didn't look like she was going to say no either.

And so he ended up sitting in a small, but sturdy cliff against pink granite wall, over an almost round, deep pool of water. The rock was cold and pressed uncomfortable against his legs, but at least it wasn't windy or, worse yet, rainy. Elfé kicked the edge of the path to make it look like it had given way under him and sent small rocks falling to the black water. She looked fiery and determined and with the sky blue behind her back like some Valkyrie of old tales, ready to judge upon the fallen soldiers. Mother had looked much the same as she had hid to wait for the Soldiers and Cloud really hoped she could act, because she was supposed to be panicked and that really wouldn't convince anyone not blind and maybe not even them if they got to see with tender fingertips the line of her mouth.

"Try to dirty your knees and elbows to make it look like you really fell; those Soldiers aren't blind," Hákon told him, tying the rope he had used to lower Cloud to the cliff to his belt and begun to hike up to avoid the Shin-Ra agents that might or might not recognise him. Elfé told him to not move any and followed him and as Cloud rubbed his knees and left elbow with a rock he prayed that they had been quick enough, that mother had gotten the Soldiers to follow him. He rubbed so hard it hurt, but that would just make it more convincing and he was supposed to be on the verge of tears anyway.

They had cut it closer than Cloud had even guessed. All too soon he heard footsteps, very silent, and those were the only warning he got before a friendly face surrounded by black, spiky mane peered down at him. The sword, Cloud noticed with a hot twinge at the bottom of his stomach that made him physically squirm, was huge and shaped like some cross between a butcher's knife and a sword and while white-golden sunlight reflecting from the weapon made it hard to see it looked terribly sharp too. The man's easy-going smile didn't match it at all and he was left guessing which one was true.

"Hey there, boy. Don't move at all, I'm going to save you and it wouldn't be funny to slip now, wouldn't it? I know this is a little scary, but we are professionals. I'm Zack Fair, Soldier Second Class." As he talked a woman in Soldier charcoals walked next to him, a coil of rope in her hands. She wasn't at all beautiful like the girl mercenaries Sears had pictures of, but she looked strong too, even though her sword was thankfully just a claymore, and wasn't it funny he was thinking about claymore as just?

"I'm Cloud," he answered with small voice and huge eyes, the best pleading face that got him anything from Barrett. Mother had surely given them some fake surname for sure and he didn't want to botch this up.

"Nice to meet you!" Zack Fair crowed as his face split in a delighted grin. "Now imagine we are ninjas or something, we can be sneaking through enemy territory, silent and crafty and sneaky...." Cloud's head jerked in silent startlement at the unexpected playing around. Okay, so Fair thought he was a startled child and needed to be kept calm, but ninjas?

"Um...aren't ninjas usually the bad guys?" he heard himself asking, dumbfounded by the man's mischievous grin and fooling around. He expected Zack Fair to lower the curly-haired woman to him with the rope, but much to his surprise he tied it around his own waist and the woman took the rope. Well, she was a Soldier, but wasn't it unfair when he was obviously heavier?

"I'm Renata Saint Cloud. We have kind of same name, don't we? Mine's just the surname," she chatted with a nice, melodic voice and Fair begun to limb down to him while she talked, but her voice wasn't even strained. Her knuckles were pale, but the rope was steady like tied to a steel pole.

"Now, how did you get yourself into this mess, little one?" Fair asked him. Cloud didn't have to fake the miffed voice when he complained:

"I'm not little!" He was rather small for his age, he knew it, but that didn't mean he was going to let strangers get smart about it, especially Shin-Ra military dogs. But Fair's voice wasn't patronizing at all.

"Not small, gotcha," he said and then Saint Cloud had gotten him lowered to the cliff. Zack didn't put his weight on it, but rather cling to the stone wall with feet and left hand like some odd, blue spider and stretched his hand to Cloud. It was callused and they were different from the calluses you could get from handling a gun, somehow.

"Don't be afraid at all, just take my hand. I'm Second Class and could easily carry you, your hypothetical bigger twin and your mom as well. Do you have a bigger twin?" Cloud sniffed miffed again, but this time it was playing. Not playing the man for a fool, but playing with him, and that made him feel ill at ease. Okay, so he didn't think Soldiers were all that evil, but Shin-Ra was and Soldiers enforced Shin-Ra's rule so he would better not get too comfortable. He hesitated visible, grit his teeth and took the hand. Then he practically flew up ad Fair let go of the wall to press him against his chest with both arms. The first thing Cloud notices, after getting over the vertigo, was that the man was like a furnace and that those arms were strong and steady and Shiva, he was feeling not only comfortable suspended in the mid air with a Soldier, but also perfectly safe. He looked down to make himself ill at ease, but despite the long fall and the black water that looked like glass it didn't really work. Then they were already at the edge of the path and Fair took a grip of a big, pink-white stone and dragged them both to the safety of steady ground. Cloud escaped his arms like they had burned and hugged his mother to hide his dismay in acting. Maybe she was right, maybe he wasn't ready for the Mako if this was all the self-discipline he had.

"Thank you, sir, I don't know what might have happened if…" her voice was teary and boy could she act. Her hands were even shaking slightly.

"It was my pleasure, ma'am," Fair said and Cloud turned his face from the safety of his mother's green coat to the man's smile and gave a shaky smile that was completely faked. Really.

"Thank you, mister," he said. "And thank you, too," he then said to Saint Cloud and she nodded to him friendly. There were three Shin-Ra regulars that were standing behind her and they looked very breathless even though they hadn't even done anything. They were all glaring at him and one of them muttered something under his breath. It made Fair turn sharply and give them a nasty glare and they all twitched like slapped. Were they scared of him, and had they a reason to be?

And so, the plan was a complete success. Fair, Saint Cloud and the troopers hiked up instead of down, after Fair had insisted in using Cure to heal the scrapes in his knees and elbows, and Cloud and Verhandi begun their long climb down. When they got back to the HQ and Elfé and Hákon got back there was a small celebration of "Cloud's Very First Mission" complete with actual cake Cloud didn't know who had whipped up. It had sticky, golden caramel-walnut covering and tasted heavenly.

"I didn't know there were any woman Soldiers," Cloud mused aloud, licking his spoon clean. He felt still uneasy, but he was determined to not let it bother him further. So what if Zack Fair had been nice to him? It wasn't like it had cost anything to the Soldier.

"There aren't many," mother told him. "The maximal strength and endurance women are capable of reaching is generally less than that of men's. There are exceptions, of course, and after they get their Mako shots there is no difference, but the cadet training is arduous and few women make it." Cloud's father had made it very sure that he knew to not underestimate women. They can be as lethal as any man, he had told him after his practice partner, a cute budding martial artist in Mideel, had kicked his ass to the ground. Even more if you don't take them seriously, and pink leggings would forever remind him of a kick to the stomach. Then again, Shin-Ra being prejudiced and asinine wasn't anything new.

"I think there are only four right now since the Midgar tabloids made a big fuss about someone named Zofia Zajac being the fourth last winter," Hákon said and grinned gleefully. He made a gesture mother would have slapped Cloud for making.

"They also went on about the speculation of Soldier sex life, since there are so few women." Cloud didn't understand any of that. One, why wouldn't Soldier get together with a non-Soldier and two, just what kind of sex life there could be without women?

"They think Soldiers celibate?" he asked in all innocence and Hákon sputtered and gave Cloud the look people gave him when they only just remembered how old he was, or wasn't. It was beginning to get really old even though the red spots burning on his cheeks and the nervous look he gave mother were kind of amusing.

"And this is enough of this discussion," mother said with teeth in her voice like old rum, or so father described the voice, and Cloud resigned himself to having to ask Sears when the man returned, whenever that might be.

* * *

Sephiroth was typing when Zack marched through his door and dropped a pile of paper on his desk. Sephiroth gave first it and then him that look that just screamed: for someone who loudly complains about paper work your come up with a lot to write. Zack dropped to the green chair and put his boots to the desk, leaving brownish stains on the creamy white and frown on Sephiroth's face.

"Hey, you know I've never turned in a report that was less than completely valid and factual," he protested turning his head to give Sephiroth a hurt look. He knew that when Sephiroth had first met him tended to trouble the man deeply, though the General had been careful not to show it, probably out of simple reflex. The people he had known in his life before Angeal, Genesis and Zack had been doctors and researchers and soldiers with capital letter or without, who had just followed directions and personal feelings had rarely if ever come into it. And, Angeal and Genesis hadn't really been the type to tease him, at least not Genesis and not as relentlessly as Zack. Luckily, the man was used enough to it now that it was weary amusement that came through, complete with funny glint in those greener-than-life eyes.

"It isn't the truthfulness of your reports that concerns me, but your coherency." The voice was dry like a sand dune. He could practically feel the heat on his skin and the shifting ground below his feet.

"Look, if you are still going on about that Gongaga report, if I hadn't explained about the underwear thief and the vicar's wife, then the chocobo theft wouldn't have made any sense and without the chocobo theft how would I have explained what I was doing in the rice paddy when the monsters came?" Things like that just happened to him and it wasn't his fault, at least not only his fault. His boots had gotten wet too. Sephiroth snorted.

"Have you learned anything new about Deepground?" he asked then more hesitantly. Sephiroth hadn't been happy at all to learn about a unit of Soldiers not under his command and Heidegger had squirmed like a worm put into a hook and thrown to the fish when Sephiroth had marched into his office demanding answers.

"Some. I will learn more once Angeal is through with Heidegger," the General answered and Zack felt his grin turning into something much nastier. He hadn't known the man then, hadn't even been a Soldier, but Angeal had been Genesis' friend and just crushed when the Soldier had gone AWOL. To learn that his friend's genome had been used to create illicit elite Soldier unit and he hadn't been told… Angeal was bound to be royally pissed off. No wonder Sephiroth had sicced him on Heidegger the minute the Soldier First Class had returned from Jörmundgar.

"By the way, I got to save the cutest little boy from a certain death or at least from catching cold by sitting on cold stone waiting for the cavalry," he got ready to tell the best part of the trip, smiling when he remembered the feather-like hair and big blue eyes. The boy had just begged to be hugged like a stuffed chocobo and taken home, but sadly that stern-eyed mother of his had called the dibs.


	9. Chapter VI: Long road to Fabales

**Chapter VI: Long road to Fabales**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

What is it like to be Chaos tied to a human body? Tied to a body that changed more than some, but not near enough to satisfy the need, governed by a boring, brooding soul hell bent on duty and atonement? He chafes in his chains, waiting for the day that would see the end of their pact. Nothing is forever; even stars would dwindle to nothing eventually and even with his influence Vincent Valentine is nowhere near that immortal. Flesh and blood can only cheat death for so long.

The Cetra had told tales of him once. Qítiān Dàshèng, Great Sage Equal of Promised Land, was said to be born from a mythical stone formed from the primal forces of Chaos, located on the Huāguǒ-shān, Mountain of Flowers And Fruits. The renegade spirit who fought Gaia's will and was banished from the Lifestream, some of those tales were inherited by the people of Wutai. He was said to know seventy two transformations, which allowed him to transform into animals and inanimate objects, to make them animate; he couldn't convincingly transform into other people, since he was then unable to hide his great red wings. Each of his hairs possessed magical properties, and was capable of transforming into his clone subjected to his will, or various weapons, animals, and other objects. He also knew various spells in order to command wind, summon fire from the sky and part water.

In his natural form he doesn't even have hair. The tale is twisted beyond recognition, but at least it is a respectful lie.

Chaos likes the little fair child his host has claimed. For such a fragile creature, he holds much potential, a promise of destiny, a dream of power and Blood of Gaia, he can taste it in his dreamless sleep and if there is anything that attracts Chaos' interest it is power. The lithe form is full of future tasting elusive like mouthful of air, two great destinies warring within the battlefield that is his life. There is only so much he can do physically without alerting his host, even when the man sleeps, but he has other options.

He is limited, chained and chafing, but he can still wreak havoc. That is his nature, like water flowing uphill.

* * *

Zack left the clear-cut yellow lights off, letting the Sunday morning glow come in through the blinds and light the room in soft greys. What had he been thinking when he had decided to become a Soldier? It sucked to come to work at Sundays. Sephiroth asked him about the preparations, setting a half-filled mug of hot mint tea to the desk in front of him. The white mug had been a Solstice gift from him; it had a picture of a joyfully green cactus and two pitch black condors and one had a speech bubble above its head that said: To Helheim with patience, I'll go kill something! The fact that the Silver General actually used it had confirmed Zack's guess that the man just loved giving mixed messages. Tactics were also part of war.

"How can you drink that stuff, Seph? It smells like toothpaste," Zack complained, wrinkling his nose.

"And good morning to you too," Sephiroth said pointedly and sat down. "We are to take the Highwind; the President wants a display of force when we get to Fabaceae, Fabales." Any military power would be a display of force in Fabales, really, but if you were going to impress someone you could as well go all the way, Zack knew.

"At last we actually get there and it only got a year. Always when we were about to come and subdue them Avalanche did something again and most of those things didn't even fit their modus operandi. You could have thought they were doing it on purpose." Zack paused.

"They did it on purpose, didn't they?" Sephiroth nodded. Whether Avalanche had been contracted to do so or not didn't matter now, Fabales had returned to the fold. No blood, no fire, no violence. He was almost ready to believe that was all they wanted, if he only hadn't read Fuhito's profile. Black words on a white paper, fitting when they told of a man whose world was black and white. There was no room for grey or red in a fanatic's mind.

Deepground had been the most upsetting of their strikes, not only because of the disturbing level of intelligence it showed, but also because of the rift it had opened between the Soldier and Heidegger. Divide and conquer, Zack knew this and he knew that Angeal and Sephiroth knew it too, but none of them could bring themselves to care. After Deepground there had been attack to the Corel reactor and while they hadn't managed to blow it up it still wasn't repaired. What made that so unusual a strike was that Avalanche had done this by hijacking the Golden Saucer, politely and firmly escorted the customers and employees out and then parked it on the reactor like a huge, shimmering wedding cake on top of ruins. Golden Saucer had only suffered superficial damage, the reactor hadn't been so lucky and he hadn't been able to help himself when he had seen the pictures, he had laughed. This and seven, count them seven, other smaller attacks had kept them running like small mechanic rabbits with red blinking lights.

"Maybe we are being too pessimistic, this could go perfectly well," he mused aloud, snapping his fingers to show how easily it could be done. Sephiroth thought about it few seconds. His shoulders moved just so and Zack knew that move usually preceded unsheathing Masamune, it looked oddly out of balance without the great sword at Sephiroth's back.

"Ar least we are going in armed," was the answer.

* * *

Some days one should just know to not rise from the bed. The morning was pale and the sky smoke dirty and the room smelt like it had been drenched in some cleaning product. Veld wasn't even making an attempt to look like he was paying attention to Palmer and the budget reports; how could a department which program and only purpose was killed and buried to the bedrock use so much money? Scarlet in her slinky red dress, even more generously cut that usual and her ruby red nails long and shiny like small weapons, was arguing the case of being granted the Huge Materia, an extraordinarily powerful Materia produced in the core of a Nibelheim Mako reactor to power a huge cannon which she wanted built in Junon. President Shin-Ra brought it to an abrupt halt by banging the table so hard Hojo's glass of water fell over and broke neatly into four sawtoothed pieces and glaring his subordinates into submission. Business like usual and he was only too happy to escape when the opportunity presented itself.

"Veld, wait a minute you bastard!" His gait hitched out of sheer disbelief and though he didn't deign to stop entirely or turn to meet the owner of that colourful voice, he angled his head just enough that the corner of tight, unpleased line his mouth made could be seen over his shoulder. By the speed at which the hallway became empty and silent around him he suspected he hadn't lost his touch. His eyes caught a sight of a person who was very much. Not exactly fat, not really muscular either, but still ridiculously big, the man in green coat took the entire hallway with ease. As difficult as it usually would have been to ignore two muscular Soldiers in their charcoals, swords strapped to their backs, his fellow Head of Department made it something he had to watch out for.

"That's not particularly polite way to say hello." Heidegger was unfazed by his cold voice, hasting to his side, but didn't grab his arm, much to the man's own luck. It hadn't been a good year for Veld and the following week promised to be worse still.

"Well, I'm not a very polite man and neither are you. Did you really think I would let you get away with this?" his fellow department head grumbled into his bushy, grey beard. Veld's expression turned into and remained polite neutral while he quickly ran through the list of things Heidegger might be referring to and it soon shrunk uncomfortably into one thing. One person, to be exact. Maybe two if he had found out about the boy also. Maybe he still had time to kill the man, only not in the middle of a public hallway.

"All the department heads have to come to this demented function the President is throwing for our newly surrendered Fabales, and you're no exception. Remember, the man's your boss just as much as mine and if I don't get to play hooky then neither do you," Heidegger ended with an amicable grumble. Warm relief flooded Veld's stomach. Ah, that. The whole function was a security nightmare, Fabales being still very hostile and Avalanche having shown vested interest in the island's political situation the gathering was not going to be all apple beer and folk dances. Veld had demanded President Shin-Ra held his victory party in Midgar, but the man used to override his suggestions at random intervals to "show who was running the circus" as he had said and against all common sense this was one of those times. Didn't mean they necessarily needed him there personally; he was supposed to delegate and this was the first time in a long time he had wanted to.

"I did return the invitation with an explanation," he pointed out coldly. The big man in front of him just laughed heartily until his face was redder than Scarlet's dress, curiously immune to his annoyance, which tended to unnerve even Shin-Ra himself when directed at him.

"And now it's being sent right back to you again. Nice try, but "I'm sorry to inform you that I will be busy elsewhere, have a good time" is not an acceptable answer." His voice was still hoarse like smoke from the laughing. In fact Veld hadn't added 'have a good time' on his RSVP, but seeing Heidegger's vexed face he wished otherwise; it would have been an artistic touch.

"I'm not in my element at social functions," he made an excuse. A wry grin split the big man's face, baring shining white teeth. People smile to repel threat, Veld thought.

"Is that so? And here I thought you were a professional infiltrator." There was that; he wasn't a natural, but he could fake it seamlessly. Reeve and Scarlet were easy; he didn't have anything against them personally, but Heidegger, the little bureaucrats and the incompetent head of Shin-Ra's Space Exploration Department were going to tempt his self control.

"Yes," Veld conceded gracefully, "I am quite good at insinuating myself into places if the situation requires that I assassinate someone or gather blackmail material on them." Not that he had done so personally in years, being the leader of the Turks. The two young Soldiers stared at him with obvious distaste, startled by his straight-forward admission and also repelled by its unapologetic delivery. Heidegger laughed with volume that made Veld fear for the plaster on the walls and ceiling, though his eyes were a little sharper than before, narrowed into reckless glint.

"Well, just do the insinuating without the killing part and you'll be a hit, live a little good man! Do you have someone to look gorgeous in your arm? Who was that pretty young blonde, Elina or Elene?" She was Elena, also his direct subordinate and Veld was sure that Heidegger knew it well. What made their interaction true waste was, in his own crude way Heidegger wasn't entirely unlikable; he had a way of looking down on bullshit, inane orders and company pomp that he could relate to all too well, all the while staying in the President's good graces. He could be respected. The Head of Shin-Ra's Public Safety Maintenance Department did his job with equal effort and intensity whether it made him the golden boy and the pet of the Board or as unpopular as Hojo on a shots day, a very professional approach even though the man did his best to hide it. It was too bad the man went out of his way to irritate Veld; they might have been able to reach an understanding otherwise.

"I think I will take a cat with me," he told the man and enjoyed immensely the way his mouth hang open, lax and disbelieving.

"As your date? Talk about low standards," the man's voice was more sarcastic than unsure at the non sequitur, he was recovering quickly.

"I am not into bestiality," Veld answered. Maybe it was for the best after all. Chances were Avalanche would make an appearance and the sooner he got this done the better.

* * *

One shot makes you stronger, one pill makes you tall and the ones that mother gives you do nothing at all, Chaos whispered. Don't you want to be stronger for the things to come? Desperate plans are never the best ones and this one can't be controlled at all, and despite that they still blindfolded you. When logic and proportion have fallen sadly short and the Green Stream is taking you the other way. And remember, the Purple Queen's dead, long live the Queen, but that doesn't meat she can't do off with your head!

It was so amusing!

* * *

AN: Helheim is Goddess Hel's land.

By the way, today 6.12 is the Finnish Independence Day! Good Independence Day, everybody Finnish!


	10. Chapter VII: Discordia

**Chapter VII: ****Discordia**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

The dinner was great, grilled sweet potatoes with peaches and tomato-cheese soup that always made his mouth water, but Cloud didn't have much appetite. The entire Avalanche had been more or less moody since Elfé had left with Fuhito and Sears. Logically thinking everything had gone great. They had delayed Shin-Ra long enough that Fabales had been able and willing to return to the fold without violence, one Mako reactor had been put out of use for a good long year at least so there wasn't going to be a new reactor in Fabales, the company budget simply couldn't allow it, their casualties had been minimal pretty much thanks to Vincent's assistance and Verhandi's Mako program was well on the way. It was pretty much the optimal situation, but the small corner of Cloud's mind that believed in miracles whispered how it would have been even better if Fabales could have remained independent somehow…

A fool's hope, but he couldn't help himself and he knew that most of Avalanche felt exactly the same. Probably everyone except Fuhito.

"Thank you, it was delicious," he said to his mother and stood up to take his plate to kitchen. He knew they were lucky to have a little home of their own; one of the perks of being a family.

"We will have to get you a new Materia now," father told him with warm pride in is voice as Cloud returned to the room. He had just told how he had managed to master his Heal Materia. Heal wasn't the most difficult, but he knew he was still young to be so successful.

"I would like to try Bolt if you can get me one. Elfé said it would be good if I had at least one battle-capable Materia mastered before I turned sixteen." That turned the conversation into serious matters and Cloud had to admit to himself that he had wanted to. He stared out of the window to the darkening evening. The moon was almost full and the white light was so beautiful, the way it seemed to freeze all movement and sounds and Cloud wondered if it was worth being half asleep at tomorrow's lectured to stay awake long enough to see it; mathematics really wasn't his slice of a pie. Then he remembered something.

"Mother, I've been going to as for a while now, are my grandparents still alive? You never talk of them." He hoped this wasn't some terrible trauma to his mother, but Piekna had asked him that very day why he never visited his grandma and he'd had to tell he didn't even know her name. Pretty Piekna of black eyes and inky black hair that lived with her own grandmother, Cloud liked her a lot. She was a lot nicer than even Tifa had ever been to him and was always ready to help him practise using Materia or watch him practise shooting and martial arts. Mother looked surprised, but luckily not unhappy.

"They are Tomas and Líf Wisteria. They live, but we have lost contact long ago. They weren't exactly happy about me "throwing my future away" as they saw it and following Aske to Nibelheim. We made up eventually, via letters, but Nibelheim is far from Millettiae and we never saw each others so even letters stopped after a while. We didn't exactly have much in common anymore and I think they would appreciate Vincent even less than Aske and Avalanche less than Nibelheim." She gave father an apologetic smile, but Vincent didn't seem to mind.

"There is a good change the last year has changed their opinion of Avalanche if not me," he said dryly, words like sandpaper and much to Cloud's delight mother seemed to consider it.

"Might be. Would you like to meet them, Cloud?" she asked him and he nodded, grinning.

"Of course and I want to see Fabales too. It's been so famous, or infamous, lately that I'm really curious." He had seen pictures and watercolour paintings of Fabales Island, beaches with black, volcanic sand that shone like round glass in the sun and golden fields of wheat. He had never seen black sand in nature.

"You would. Maybe if Elfé can afford us to go," father said and that was almost as good as yes; Elfé was quite fond of Cloud and regarded family very important, despite or maybe because she couldn't remember her own. Mother's project was going so well, the first batch was pretty much on the same level with Soldier Third Class in power if not in skill. And so Cloud went to sleep content after all.

At first he dreamed of black sand and a grandmother that resembled Kiciu, but the peaceful dream wasn't to last. He was awakened with noise that made words when he listened to it very hard, distant, but maddening. The voice was metallic and strange, like synthesized. It tore Cloud's mind like a grater. There was something he should have remembered, but he had no idea what and then the thought was robbed from him. He heard fire and great wind between the words the voice sang like a demented lullaby. _One shot makes you stronger and one pill makes you tall and the ones that mother gives you do nothing at all._ He heard the beats of great wings. He was unbearably hot. Where was he and why was everything white?

He felt the floor beneath his feet, but mostly was still white wit only the slightest tinge of green; now it just had shapes. It was a laboratory, but not like his mother's; she was as organized as any, but she loved deep, earthly colours while this one was so obsessively white that for a second Cloud thought he'd gone blind. There were carts everywhere; utility carts and an adjustable tote cart, low humility transport carts and few he didn't even recognize. There were stainless steel cabinets on the wall, painted light gray, and the regular wet laboratory gear. The only real colour was coming from behind him, sickly green light. Cloud turned around heart beating like it was trying to escape his chest.

There was a small boy few years younger than him lying restrained on the table. The green light came from a giant Mako tank with breathing tube equipment behind the table. Cloud's mouth tasted metal like blood; that was nothing like his mother ever used. Verhandi only gave Mako in diluted form and small doses, she would never dump anyone into it; Mako was a mutagenic and an acidic hallucinogenic in large quantities and addictive to boot! The smell of it burned his nose. _You poor soul, it's sad, but don't cry, the Purple Queen is coming by, _the voice sang and the boy on the table flinched in surprise. He had long silvery hair and a fair, elegant face; had he not been shirtless Cloud would have mistaken him for a girl. The boy's body was pierced with needles and with the sympathetic pain he felt piercing his skin and even the sensation of bleeding stunning him it took a few seconds to realize that the boy's eyes were shining so bright they created a faith green highlight upon his cheekbones. The pity and revulsion were a hot, churning knot in his stomach. He didn't have to think before he was pulling the needles out and tossing them to the floor and battling the white leather restraints with stumbling fingers.

"Thank you," the boy said with a pleasant voice when he eventually succeeded and sat up. "Nobody has changed this before for me. My name is Sephiroth." The name felt oddly familiar, like Cloud should know it, but it was hard to think straight. He took the smaller boy's hand and dragged him up.

"I am Cloud. We have got to run away, they are going to come back sooner or later. Are there labcoats you could use somewhere?" He swallowed the scared taste from his mouth and looked around. Where they were anyway, how had he gotten there and where mother and father were? He had no idea.

"It is no use, we are not capable of escaping alone," Sephiroth told him, not unkindly. The resignation burned Cloud's heart like Mako. He turned around in despair and his eyes were captured by a syringe full of mostly clear, colourless liquid; it only had a hint of green tint, a whispered promise and suddenly it felt like the best idea ever. He could be strong enough! The song was taking his thoughts apart again. _If you want to cross this bridge, sweet boy, you have a price to pay. Take a deep breath and gather your courage, or all this will be in vain._ He took the deep breath and picked the syringe, cold and smooth like an icicle in his palm. It calmed him, but Sephiroth's hand grabbed his wrist, warm and demanding.

"Don't do that, it doesn't sound like a nice voice at all." His voice rang true like a bell and Cloud flinched and found himself standing in another lab, his mother's, with okra cabinets and one of her syringes in his hand. It was full of transparent, barely green liquid, his only light beside the moonlight from the windows. His fingers went flaccid and it fell slowly like through syrup and broke on the floor.

In his quarters in Midgar Sephiroth sat up abruptly, the silver head lifted with a jerk. The Purple Queen is coming by, he thought without knowing why he felt so cold. Somebody had been ready to inject himself with Mako to save him after all. His name had been Cloud.

What in Tyr's name was he thinking? It wasn't like him to be this incoherent even after some of his worse nightmares, those of a burning villages and screaming children or the green of Mako tank and a voice of a woman whispering to his ear, his childhood hallucinations of fire and destruction.

Outside the big, vulnerable window the Fabaceaeian night was clear and harmonic. He was still cold.

* * *

She had lately had much reason to be annoyed, but this took the cake with cherry on top. Rosso the Crimson looked at the red-haired whisper of a girl cowering in front her and then gave her leader a cross look. Now she knew that the times were hard, after the death of Nero the Sable, the unkempt second in command of the Tsviets, and their integration to the standard Soldier program, but was this seriously the best they could do? True, much good things had come from the terrorist attack. Soon after with the Restrictor dying, the mind chips' effects had began to wear off, and the Tsviets laughed and watched as the Restrictor drawn his last breath. Oh, how had they laughed! She had gotten to see the sky too, so endless blue it felt like it could swallow her, without the comforting limits of space she had felt like she could explode, with no enough air pressure to keep her whole, but how liberating even the terror had been! But the freedom hadn't lasted, now they were constricted again, this time officially, by rules and regulation, rule enforced by General Sephiroth who had beaten them all one by one, and Angeal Hewley who obviously had it in for them.

"Is this seriously the best we can do? How the mighty have fallen." The girl-child flinched and tried to make herself as small as she could, an easy feat in her too big blue and orange and white dress.

Was her dress made of old window dressings? Rosso, very proud of her looks, disdained ugly clothes. Don't talk about practicality or how it is comfortable, she though, that dress is a crime.

The look Weiss the Immaculate gave her almost made her sympathize with the girl's plight after all. The Tsviets leader had been close to his brother and had needed to be beaten nearly to death by Sephiroth to make him calm down at least somewhat. His pupils were the perpetual pinpricks even now, the wild look of a rabid animal in a leash in the quicksilver eyes.

The fight was always between them and the world. It was the struggle between what was and what they wanted, what they were, monsters in a leash, and how they meant to be engaged in conflict and smell blood, to never know a moment of peace. Peace was over-rated anyway. Peace was rest and stillness and death. The fight never ended or slowed down in life that was the survival of the fittest and life thrived in chaos.

"She has potential with SND. She is unimportant enough that no one will miss her. Train her." He shoved the girl to her knees and turned sharply, leaving the room without further word. Rosso gave the child in her feet an assessing look as she nudged her with her long, black boot. She looked well and truly pitiful, but beggars can't be choosers. They needed to renew their full strength and more if they ever wanted to be truly free. She hated to admit it, but they had been lucky to make it through with only one casualty; the blast radius of the explosive Avalanche had used had been huge, but they hadn't been able to get it very far into the base before being spotted and forced to retreat and the base had been made to survive a minor Apocalypse. The paint had been vaporized from the walls and the chrome had melted like ice, but the stench was past now.

"What is your name and how old are you?" she demanded to know, pouting her blood red lips sensually.

"Shelke… I'm… I'm nine." Oddly Shelke wasn't begging, or maybe she just wasn't begging anymore. She was gripping the twist of her skirt so hard her knuckles were white. Her lips were pale also.

"Get up and look me in the eye. If you can't, I will hurt you!" she snapped.

So be it, then. She would train Shelke in secret and train her well, even if it killed the child.

* * *

Watching only thinly disguised glee of Shin-Ra Company and the way they paraded General Sephiroth in his all beautiful, lethal grace around the town was depressing, but in the end Elfé was glad she had gone to Fabaceae. She returned to Cosmo Canyon with the most beautiful feline anyone had ever seen, wine-red and black-eared friendly creature. Research proved him to be a caracal, labeled as a small cat, but was amongst the heaviest of all small cats, as well as the fastest. Because it was so easily tamed, told the old, ornate biology book that Bugenhagen had borrowed her, the caracal was sometimes kept as a pet, and was said to adapt easily to living with humans.

Elfé named him Juvalos.


	11. Interlude III: Felicia

**Interlude III: Felicia**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit

* * *

Where to finish? A day that wasn't particularly sunny, but it didn't rain either, not early, but it wasn't late evening either. The girl it happened to wasn't the most beautiful girl in the town, but she was far from ugly. The girl was mundane, the father wasn't. There was an entirely too effective weapon and the ammunition erupted into fragments. Because there are conventions even in tragedy, that was just the beginning.

Felicia Hoyt was a sociable child. It wasn't easy with a father who made a background check for every friend whose name she even mentioned, but she managed, full of good cheer. Felicia had a small problem with resisting temptations, namely that she couldn't. Even as a little girl, she couldn't seem to stay away from anything that piqued her curiosity, no matter how small or unimportant. If she saw her mother writing a letter she had to read it over her shoulder, if there was a jar on the kitchen table, she had to open it to see if there was jam or pickles inside. If there was an empty plot of land, probably full of fascinating stuff people had thrown away hidden in the high grass, she had to explore it, if there was a door in her vicinity she had tried to open it. If there was a person looking sad she had to ask him or her why even if they were strangers and because she was a cute, small girl with big, wet, emphatic eyes she got away with it.

Father said often that she would make a great Turk one day. Mother always answered that it was no life for a sweet child like her. Felicia didn't like it when her parents argued, but she didn't know what she could do to make it stop. Father was a Turk too and surely mother didn't think that was bad? She had married him after all and she was what old-fashioned people called a nice woman, those old women whose vocabulary knew nice as a synonym to fine and distinguished.

The girl was a sweet little thing, her father known for miles around and at times mysterious strangers came into town. She had a nanny when she was too young to go to school, a dark-haired firm woman that wore a dark blue suit, discreet pearl earrings and a gun holster.

The nanny's name was Zoë with no surname attached, just like father had none, and Felicia called her Auntie for six years. Zoë didn't leave her even when there was no use for babysitting anymore, since when Felicia turned seven and went to school she stopped being a nanny and became a bodyguard. Around that time Felicia stopped calling her Auntie out of sheer annoyance. How was she supposed to make new friends when there was a 6'7 tall woman intimidating them? Luckily she had a gaggle of friends already, closest of who were Brian, Wendela and especially Elfé. Elfé was the bravest of them, she even dared to create distractions for Felicia to slip away from Zoë and the fact that she dared to do so more than once made her a hero in Felicia's books.

Kalm was a village located just outside of Midgar. Unlike the massive, bustling metropolis nearby, Kalm was the kind of place where time had stopped. It was a tiny hamlet with only a few shops, a pub, and an inn. People didn't lock their doors except for Felicia's father and old Agnes kept a honey stall beside her house where there was a box next to the jars where people were supposed to put their money when Agnes was cooking inside. Everyone always did. It's good you chose to raise the lil one here, Fiona, that new-fanged Midgar's no good, Agnes once told mother. Felicia knew that father worked there and intended to ask why they lived in Kalm, but for a reason she couldn't quite comprehend she always lost her nerve at the last minute. Father had a cold, cold look in his eyes at times when he wasn't talking with her or mother. She was slowly growing up.

Good the song that quickly ceases, so came Elfé's thirteenth birthday. Felicia had bought her a necklace that had her name carven into it and wrapped it up herself with green paper and red ribbon. She pretty much strong-armed Brian and Wendela into helping with her great escape and walked down the street towards the great oak behind the inn. They had conjured up a plan to meet that day and hadn't told a soul, kept the whole thing tight. It was a warm day at a quarter to three. Felicia was ready to go, but where was Elfé?

Kalm was always a quiet little place, but that day it was really much too quiet for her liking and she was almost sorry she had ditched Zoë. What a day for Elfé to be late and she had their picnic basket too.

Then there was a huge explosion that felt like it tore right through her eardrums and her feet weren't suddenly touching the ground anymore, she collided with the tree headfirst and slumped down. She had never before been really hurt, but now her head pounded nauseatingly, with silvery spikes of pain and it was heavy when she tried to lift it from the grass. Her heart beat so loud and then everything went pitch black. When she opened her eyes people around her were screaming and her head hurt like it was going to explode. She could see great red-golden flames dancing on the inn's roof, feel the heat of it on her face. She wanted to run home and realized she had no idea where it was. If she even had home anymore, awfully many buildings were in flames. She had no idea who she was and so she curled up into a small, tight ball and cried until she slept, or maybe it was more like unconsciousness. Long grass hid her well, but despite all she was lucky; it didn't catch fire. The next day, when the pale daybreak light waked her, she was still alone.

She found out she could read when she opened a small gift that had been in her pocket and found a pendant with Elfé carved into it, letters ornate and delicate. But had the gift been for her or from her to someone? At the end she decided to call herself Elfé. It wasn't like she knew another name to go by.

Where to begin? There were many who could have told her otherwise, but they decided that Elfé was better off orphaned and adopted. Who can tell?

* * *

Emotional surgery pays no indemnity.  
Some seek release with effete anaesthesia,  
others adapt to the role of sworn enemy.  
You found nepenthe in cheap, sweet amnesia;  
It was far easier losing my memory.

AN: The lyrics are from You Lost My Memories by Skyclad. I don't own them.


	12. Chapter VIII: Family values

**Chapter VIII: Family values**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit

* * *

Vincent was pretty much divine with his guns and Cloud was quickly becoming at least saintly, Elfé noticed as she watched them practising again. She was feeling warm and nostalgic, Cloud bringing memories of her own childhood to her mind, practising all she was worth and waiting impatiently to become old enough to participate on the missions, the sting when sweat trickled into her eyes and the warm, content feeling at her stomach when her instructor had praised her, the smell of sword oil when she had been given a very fine bottle of sword oil for her first katana as a birthday gift, a very fine variety also judged by the delicate green and red wax seal on it and the handwritten Wutaiian calligraphy on the label which suggested it was made by Ninja Monks in a mountain monastery somewhere Eastern Wutai. She had given Cloud gun oil when he had turned thirteen, a very fine variety from Rocket Town, and Cloud's grin had been blinding.

"So we got the hard drive back, but only after we had hammered the safety deposit box from the wall with mallets and the crime scene was a complete screw-up. We had been told to make it look like "an unrelated accident", thank you very much Elfé, but despite the earthquake we had to pretend the place had been attacked by fricking Armored Golems. Attacked by bleeding Armored Golems right in the middle of a famfritdamn Junon! Might as well not have bothered, since the Evil Bitch also known as Scarlet didn't believe it. Top that!" Barrett challenged and took a long swig from his mug. He and Sears were playing The Worst Mission Ever again. Juvalos pushed against her leg affectionately and she bent to pick him up, scratching behind one black ear and the caracal purred contently.

None of the really bad missions were ever mentioned, of course. Not the ones you came back from with only half your men or less and nausea roiling at the bottom of your stomach. The stories you told were those where you lost, or occasionally succeeded, in as embarrassing way as possible.

"That's easy," Sears countered confidently. "Two years before you joined the bandwagon. You remember that one, Elfé? You were in that wannabe-underground Pussy Moogle Cabaret with me and you actually laughed at me." She tried to keep from laughing, she really tried. She didn't quite manage and Sears gleamed for managing to cheer his often solemn and melancholic leader to the point of laughter. Then Elfé felt bad again thinking how he loved her. Contrary the popular opinion she wasn't oblivious of Sears' feelings, she just wasn't in a position to do a thing about it. Sears wasn't the one she loved. The world was unfair like that, no matter how true or pure your love no one was guaranteed to love you back.

"If it's the reconnaissance mission you're talking about, yes, it was pretty hilarious," she murmured, hoping she had a mug too so she could hide her face behind it, but was forced to make do with rubbing her cheek against Juvalos' soft, red fur. She wondered what Sears was drinking; it smelt a little like the rosehip-raspberry tea she liked, but drowned in alcohol.

"Pussy Moogle Cabaret is a club for deranged, or was it decadent, rich men that wanted some exotic entertainment in Midgar without needing to go underplate for it. Palmer goes there and I spent the entire mission dressed in drag singing onstage." With ukulele, Elfé added in her mind. It had been rather disturbing place, since Sears' performance had been of the mildest variety. Barrett's eyes bulged and he spat the beer from his mouth, couching and laughing convulsively at the same time. Elfé had to laugh too, she remembered the slinky red dress full of sequins and the high headdress made of rose chocobo feathers and rich orange artificial flowers. When she had seen him in it the first time she had laughed so hard her stomach had cramped.

"You must be kidding me." Barrett's voice was shaking with repressed laughter and reluctant awe. Sears seemed to be taking it all with good grace, only slight tint of red covered his face and his voice was more than slightly tinted with self-effacing amusement.

"I wish. At least I got my pink moogle mascot out of it." It was hanging in his keychain as they spoke, a small plastic thing with huge blue eyes dangling and dangling around.

"Man, Sears, no offence, but you would make the ugliest girl ever and you can't sing worth a shit. I have heard." The things they did for their cause, Elfé thought. Sears hadn't been the only one undercover in that club, though luckily her rather plain looks had protected her from becoming a performing artist.

"That was the point, they wanted something artistically macabre, whatever they meant with it," Sears said dryly. "Not the ugliest, though. Female Palmer would be even uglier." Barrett shuddered at the mental picture. Elfé turned to watch Vincent and Cloud again, but there wasn't much shooting any more; they had obviously managed to thoroughly distract the budding sharpshooter. She offered the boy's father an apologizing smile and Vincent nodded to her and made Cloud pick the riffle up again. Again much like her instructor had been. Little ruthlessness was a good thing when it came to teaching people stay alive and much ruthlessness was even better. Cloud gave his father a dirty look, but pushed his fair, unruly locks from his eyes and reloaded, then hitting the red heart-shaped bull's-eye on the target cardboard swordsman with ease. The riffle was quite so ridiculously big compared to the boy anymore, but the way he handled the recoil was still impressing.

"Tell me that someone took pictures of Pretty Woman Sears." Thee dark-skinned gunner's eyes had a dangerous glint. Juvalos jumped down from her arms and sauntered towards Cloud, undoubtably to beg treats the boy had just as undoubtably hidden into his pockets.

"If they did, I'll be forced to kill them." Barrett laughed at the threat with booming cough, his huge chest lending it force like an echo chamber. That laugh made her feel like family, the same way Sears grumbling about crazy vampire ex-Turks and threatening Hákon with kitchen knife if he dared to try and touch his stir-fry, Hákon being able to burn water, Cloud being so serious about making them proud and having a crush mile wide on Piekna, Jessie kicking Ciddi's ass for making off with her favorite wrench and Fuhito friendly bickering with Verhandi about something she would have needed a dictionary to understand did. Family had very little to do with genetics. If only she could know for sure what Fuhito thought of her.

It was a family that didn't appreciate attempts to protect them at her own expense, she thought when she felt the icy shiver going up and down his spine again despite the sun on her face and the long-sleeved shirt. She hadn't wanted to bother Fuhito with it, but maybe she really was becoming sick. It surprised her; Zirconiade was supposed to see to it that nothing short of bubonic plague would get through her immune system. He was busy today, but she would go to him tomorrow. She felt her cheeks warm with blood when she thought of him in his white labcoat, his refined features and civilized accent. If only she knew what Fuhito thought of her. Well, it was several more hours until nighfall so maybe she could join the next round of Sears and Barrett's game, she should just go get something to warm and spicy and alcoholic her when the sun went down. Hot liquor with apple-cinnamon syrup would warm her up inside and laughing would distract her.

"You should have seen Elfé as a waitress, though. She had this tiny, black miniskirt and fishnet stockings…"

* * *

Veld was off-duty. Even Turks had to relax at times and no one was expected to bring their work home with them, carry it in their mind twenty four hours a day seven days a week. During their time off, the only responsibilities required of them were the ones they chose to take themselves. Most of his Turks took full advantage of this with gusto and liquor, the most notable exception being his second in command Tseng, and Veld knew he was driving them hard, but at times like this he couldn't bring himself to even pretend he cared, for he drove himself harder than any his subordinate. He would not allow Kalm to happen again, not that there was much point worrying about that anymore. Maybe his daughter wasn't dead, but she was doing her best to make sure she might as well have been.

Did she really hate him so much that she had to try and ruin Shin-Ra to get even? Maybe he deserved it, he thought when he remembered Fiona's burnt body, recognizable only because of the wedding ring, gold and diamonds against charred black and stench of burnt flesh. If Felicia had seen her what was left of her mother, had breathjed that stench, maybe she had every right in the world to try and avenge her.

Veld, with his self-imposed iron control, was exempt from this unofficial rule. He had learned the hard way what could happen if you let your control slip even for a second. He wondered if he would ever be given the order to go after his daughter with lethal intent and what he would do about it. Irritation was breaking through his discipline, a slow boiling frustration. He didn't know what he was doing anymore and he loathed being out of control, he didn't know what was happening to the world.

Vincent Valentine was supposed to have died in Nibelheim. Yet he walked on this Planet, under his daughter's command, in Cosmo Canyon which he only knew about courtesy of Project Cait Sith, recently renamed as Juvalos. It was beginning to seem like he wasn't a grandfather after all, but Vincent was definitely a father and that made the situation practically the same. The Turks were primarily loyal to the Turks to their own above all. Vincent had been his personage. That practically made Cloud his nephew.

How by Hel's name was Vincent Valentine alive and why wasn't he back to him? Where had the man been? Gods help him if this was because he had fallen in love with a terrorist without telling Veld first, because the man would need it. He could always shoot the man and take Cloud into the Turk program in his memory.

* * *

Catalysis: the process in which the rate of a chemical reaction was increased by means of a chemical substance known as a catalyst. Unlike other reagents that participated in the chemical reaction, a catalyst was not consumed and so might participate in multiple chemical transformations, although in practice catalysts were secondary processes. Fuhito was holding the life of a woman who loved him in his hands. A catalyst worked by providing an alternative reaction pathway to the reaction product. The rate of the reaction was increased as this alternative route had lower activation energy.

Gently turning around the tube he had managed to buy from the black market in his fine fingers, Fuhito watched the slight light play across its curved edge, tilting it again. Beneath that slight glass shine, there was thick darkness rippling with the slightest hint of colour, the sample almost liquid. He had no real ties to humanity, Fuhito mused. Why should he have any? What had humanity ever done for him? He had been given plenty of things he didn't want, at the cost of the one thing he yearned with desperation but couldn't have. He could be the most energy-conserving person in existence and still he would make no difference. Humanity was a cancer. He wanted nothing to do with humanity. What was love worth anyway? An abstract concept, love was deep, ineffable feeling of tenderly caring for another person and it wasn't something he had in him to give, even to the Planet. His guilt was so deep he at times almost resented the Planet for shouldering him with the truth, but only almost.

Dark, dirty blue Materia, tainted Support Materia to go along with the Ultimate Summon and no time for Verhandi Valentine to save her leader. Slowly the blood-covered trigger was beginning to pull.


	13. Chapter IX: Monsters in making

**Chapter IX****: Monsters in making**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profi.

* * *

The floor in his friend's house was spotless and the clutter of papers on the kitchen table well ordered, recipes in one pile and homework in another. The smell of lamp oil lingered, even after the furious use of his mother's best soap; it mixed with the smell of rich bundles of rosemary, coriander and bee balm and the long, white plaits of garlic, made a strange perfume that was both enduring and homely. The table clothes were pressed neatly and the windows were so transparent it looked like there was no glass at all. It could only mean one thing: Kiciu had been housecleaning and Piekna had her hands full, also.

"Piekna! Do you have a moment?" he called for her. Something was stomping in the storeroom and then the door opened, revealing Piekna with a red and white clout, made of the same cloth her grandmother's stall's awning was made of, around her head. She was pretty even in what she called her cleaning rags and he was glad he could stay for her birthday even though he was hoping the reason would have been less sinister.

"Hey, look what I have got here! Isn't it great?" she announced sunnily. It, Cloud noticed, was something fluffy and very bright yellow. It was made of cloth and when Piekna hold it over her chest he saw that it was probably some kind of shirt with a hood. A hood with long chocobo feathers carefully sewed into it.

"Yeah, but what is it?" Other than absurd chocobo shirt, he meant. What use could anyone have for a chocobo shirt?

"My chocobo suit I used in Bugenhagen's children's midsummer masquerade two years ago. I had forgotten I had it." He had never been at masquerade. No one in Nibelheim had had time or desire to do something so whimsical, even less for children's amusement. He really blessed the benevolent god or goddess that had led him down the rickety stairs to the secret basement room in the Shin-Ra mansion all those years ago. Of course father would still be captured if he hadn't freed him, he and mother would still live in Nibelheim and there would be no such things like picnics or masquerades or a higher purpose in life that getting through it for him. Maybe not even real friends and certainly not Piekna.

"I wonder how you managed to forget. Then again, maybe it was the trauma," he teased her and she wrinkled her nose.

"Clown. All you lack is a big, red nose. Maybe I could ask grandma do one for you…" Wicked, mischievous little smile curved her mouth.

"Don't bother, no need!" he almost panicked. It was a scary, scary smile. Piekna had it in her to make him walk down the Cat Tail Trail to the marketplace in clown gear and wear the chocobo suit herself. At times he felt like she should have been in Avalanche instead of him, because she really didn't need to be evil to be scary. Also, he was sure she didn't sleepwalk. This time he had been caught by mother, who had been getting the lab ready for Elfé's operation.

"I meant to tell you, I won't be going to Fabales next week after all." So I can come to your birthday, he didn't say aloud. The way Piekna's smile widened made him feel really good and warm inside.

"Why? Is somebody sick? I really hope not, or at least that its nothing serious." The reason he could stay didn't make him feel good at all. Elfé was somewhat quiet and decidedly taciturn, but she was simply lovable. She was getting gradually weaker despite her superhuman strength, like there was a fire inside her that fuelled her to great feats, but ate her flesh in return.

"This is a secret and you must promise to never tell anyone. I don't think father would be happy at all if he knew I'm telling even you." It wasn't that father considered Piekna untrustworthy, but he opposed telling secrets in general principle. True secret can only be one that doesn't exist, he always said. If you open your mouth even for one person, it will begin to unravel. Cloud had to admit that father had a point, but he didn't like lying to his friends.

"I won't tell a soul; cross my heart and hope to die." She was serious, too. She kepth Avalanche's secret, along with everyone in Cosmo Canyon. It truly was a remarkable place, the beautiful canyon city full of pinions and clean-scented, white-stemmed eucalypti, large areas of grasses and yellow and pink and blue wildflowers on open hillsides facing west, impressive masses of rock formations, and streams which supported a dense margin of willow trees, and it had bred truly remarkable people.

"Elfé is sick, terribly sick too. It happened so quickly. One day she felt like she was maybe catching a cold, the next she went to Fuhito and he gave her a flu shot, the next still she was like a death warmed over. You know how strong Elfé is, right?" He didn't expect anything else; her prowess in battle against Soldiers was legendary. When Piekna nodded he continued.

"She doesn't get her power from Mako, but from Materia called Zirconiade. It makes her stronger, but apparently it's eating her from inside out too. Mother and Fuhito are operating her tomorrow. But the real catch is, father thinks there is something odd with how quickly her condition deteriorated and mother agrees, so he has gone Turk on us all. And I'm staying here." Father didn't trust Fuhito farther than Cloud could throw the man and wouldn't leave mother and Elfé alone in the room with him even if the man didn't know he would be there. Cloud didn't know what to think. He didn't like Fuhito very much, but he liked the idea that the polite and calm man with a bone to pick with Hojo could be a traitor. Didn't the man know that Elfé loved him? She wasn't all that subtle about her feelings even though she probably believed she was and only a true monster could deliberately hurt someone like Elfé in love.

He guessed they would find out. Yesterday Fuhito's hard drive had much to the man's annoyance been formatted by a particularly nasty computer virus, at least as far as the scientist was concerned. There was a hard disk that was formatted in his computer and that was a truth, no more and no less. Father had an ironclad alibi for that half an hour too, he had been speaking to Barrett right in front of Fuhito. Cloud remembered with odd, crystalline clarity how his heart had beaten so loud he could feel it in his fingertips, how his fingers had seemed to have a will of their own, doing the job fast and easily despite his nervousness and the dim light. How he had climbed in and out of the second story window and how elated he had felt when he realised he had just completed his second mission, even if it was off the record.

There was no need for Armored Golems if you were a cute, big-eyed, sadly-short-for-your-age kid.

* * *

Porcelain doll in madman's strings, your beloved runs a biological warfare. He takes some from your body, I take a lot. You may sleep all day in your mind, drowning there. Childhood memories sugar sweet like candy, they explode when they hit your teeth. Let coma come like bullets from a gun; deliver me into the world of sun and moon, in one piece again, whole. Give me birth. Did you know that some experience an orgasm when they give birth? Oh Elfé, my Love, my Mother, I will devour you so sweet.

I am the One who will burn humankind to ashes. It is a small price for my freedom

* * *

Nobody had wanted to be the one to ask the Silver General what he was doing on the airship dock and Sephiroth had just marched into Highwind with Angeal and Zack on his heels. It was a well-known fact that Sephiroth never took part on any of Heidegger's biannual visits to Costa Del Sol garrison, despite the man's persistent pestering to accompany him and get ambushed by the media in his stead, and everyone had been nervously wondering what made this one an exception. Just before takeoff Heidegger had come to them, eyeing them suspiciously and asked why Sephiroth had decided to join him this time; butter wouldn't have melted in his mouth, but his eyes had been bright and sharp. I didn't, he had answered, I'm going to Gongaga and this is the quickest way to get there. Heidegger might have argued with Sephiroth; he really wasn't going to argue with Angeal and so they had hijacked his thinly veiled vacation.

The door to their lodge opened again, letting the noise of the engine magnify for a second. The beautiful, young stewardess that hadn't exited the airship quickly enough after Sephiroth had taken over, maybe on purpose, made her way up to the three Soldiers and puffed out her chest as she stopped next to their row of seats, smiling to them seductively. Her lipstick was deep Summon red and her skirt was very short.

"We will arrive at Gongaga Air Station in twenty five minutes," she announced with lilting, musical voice.

"That is interesting. It has been ten minutes since you informed me we were thirty five minutes away." Sephiroth flipped a page of his notes. He would have been more surprised if the woman hadn't tried to hit on them, but that didn't mean he was happy to be a target of so awkward attempt at seduction.

"So, tell me, can you make this airship go any faster?" A confused silence reigned over the lodge.

"Er...no, sir, not without endangering your persona." Her brown eyes, covered by contact lenses that made them look blue to the non-Soldiers, strayed to his chest before returning to his face. His persona indeed. Sephiroth snorted.

"Then I fail to see what use I have for the information, but thank you for bringing it to my attention." He continued to study his files until the woman got the hint and left, her heels clattering a staccato against the metal floor.

"You have certainly been testy lately," Angeal observed calmly, but Sephiroth didn't lift his gaze. The truth was, he had seen his fourth dream just the night before. The details varied, but he was always a child again, dimly aware that it was past and he couldn't change a thing and there was another child with blond hair, its spikyness reminding him of Zack. There was a metallic, gleeful, cruel voice that tried to coax the child, Cloud, into injecting himself with Mako to save him and utterly irrationally he was willing every time, needed to be stopped by Sephiroth. That night the voice had quoted Loveless, which had reminded him of Genesis and done nothing good to his mood. It was made even worse by the thought that he was merely being used for getting the child to agree, which under normal circumstances would have been a justified cause for anger, but this was a matter of dreams. His subconscious going haywire on him, nothing more.

The first beam of dawn sunshine sparkled over the dimly grey clouds outside, despicably bright and cheerful considering today's agenda. Sephiroth shifted from one side to another against the sway of the airship, working out the knots in his back by tensing each muscle in turn. His world had once been clear if not perfect, black and white of duty with the occasional splash of blood-red and jungle green. Nowadays, annoying shades of grey pervaded everything and free will was a whole lot more complicated than he had predicted.

And his headaches were returning. He used to suffer from terrible, pulsating headaches, accompanied by heightened sensitivity to bright lights, photophobia, and noise, hyperacusis. During these episodes his temper was easily triggered and hard to control; in one unforgettable time in Wutai, thank Odin it had been on battlefield because he didn't know what he would have done without a legitimate outlet, he had destroyed a battalion single-handed, with cold steel and fire and bare hands. Then it was over, the headache and the bloodbath in hot, damp forest, leaving him nauseated and overjoyed, shamed and unfocused, covered in blood and mud and other things he would rather not think of. The headache hadn't returned until the day before yesterday.

"I wonder why they insist that we check on the reactor discrepancies. This is like killing a fly with a Mako cannon," Angeal mused, ruffling Zack's hair as the Soldier Second Class made an attempt to steal his egg-anchovies sandwich. The smell of it made him hungry too.

"We have been _wilful_ and _undisciplined_ lately. This is the president attempting to put us in our rightful place." Sephiroth's voice was scathing. Of course the way they had gone about fulfilling this mission had been even worse, so if he was corrects and Heidegger had run to complain to the President, more menial duties were in sight.

"That's not a big mystery, but does anyone know what Veld wants from the Eastern Continent and without his minions to boot?" Zack asked. It was like travelling with a ghost. Sephiroth had never been one to believe in spirits other than the Summons, but it was the best analogy he could come up with to describe sharing the airship with the semi-legendary Turk leader. He had boarded Highwind without ado, chosen one lodge and hadn't made a sound since. The man hadn't left the lodge either, as good as Veld might be at sneaking around undetected his hearing was much too good to not hear the lodge door opening and the footsteps on the clanking floor and so they were managing just fine, at least the Turk leader didn't intrude upon their conversation.

"Do we even want to know?" Angeal asked. It was a little unnerving all the same.

* * *

You could take any mortal man and put him in control, watch him become a god in flesh and watch people's heads roll, but only I can create. In this purple flesh dreams a goddess from space. Might you have a mind of your own someday? Life is so fragile and bright, white like clean light. I wonder if it ever makes the Planet want to get dirty, drenched in pollution, carbon black staining its atmosphere and Mako staining its ground? No? Maybe it is just me, then. It doesn't matter what it is; newly fallen snow, white gems within your bedrock, pure white paper, or the whiteness of my laboratory I tease myself with. Being so pure is begging for trouble.

You are the next step in human evolution. Raise us all to your level.

* * *

AN: Some women do experience orgasm when they give birth, but its not terribly common phenomena.


	14. Chapter X: Gate of Horn

**Chapter X: Gate of Horn**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

What is it like to be Sephiroth? It is to always know he is different, he was carefully genetically engineered to be different and in this he fulfils every expectation. His body is the obvious part of what sets him apart and above, stronger than any Soldier First Class can hope to be, his senses sharper, his endurance greater. His mind is what lies beyond the obvious. He knows how scientific community works, protected by clinical anonymity and the empirical borders between people and the other, he knows how army works, discipline and regulations and display of force, but he has no idea how to operate as a part of humankind.

He doesn't like operating blind. At least with Zack everyone is equally dumbfounded; maybe that is why he favours the man's company so to the point of calling him a friend. He tells himself so.

How we perceive reality is reality to us. Whenever a man thinks, knowing that he thinks, chances are he is trying to convince himself, that he lies to himself, little or much, to create a comfort zone. Speech, thing called a social product, was made for lying.

* * *

Everything was quiet, except for the still-falling rain, when the late dawn began to shine through the slowly-forming cracks in the dark clouds that were covering the sky. At least he was under some kind of cover, Cloud thought, but it was obvious that he was lying on grass; it was damp and slick against his cheek. Why was he lying outside? He was cold, but forced himself not to move an aching muscle; he was sure that he was being watched, he could feel the pinpricks in his neck. Cloud remembered Fuhito and how he had summoned the something, the creature when enraged Sears and Barrett had gone to arrest him with father.

Hot, churning rage pooled in his stomach and Cloud couldn't help the twitch of his fingers. So he hadn't been that close to the mad scientist, but he hadn't disliked the man either. He had trusted him not to do anything like try to destroy the world at least! The sting of betrayal was bitter. Poor, poor Elfé, if she didn't have bad luck she wouldn't have luck at all. Cloud was beginning to think that not playing with full deck was some kind of secret scientist requirement and his mother had just cheated.

"Don't bother pretending; I know you are awake," a cool, authoritative voice said. Cloud's heart skipped a beat; it was older now, but he knew that voice.

Mother had been taking care of Elfé. She was not technically a medical doctor, but she had the medical knowledge necessary to administer Mako treatments and life with Avalanche made one a jack of all trades pretty quickly. Everyone had prayed that Elfé would be stubborn enough to pull through this.

Cloud had seen his father turning into his Galian beast form once. Now his skin had rippled like some dense liquid and turned red and black, his cloak melting into him and spreading as wings. Chaos, he had realized. Fuhito had absorbed the Summon beast he had ripped from Elfé's body and now Vincent Valentine put his to good use. Fight fire with fire, witchcraft with witchcraft and one mad scientist with another's oeuvre. Fuhito hadn't have hands anymore, but some odd cross between wings and pincers and he had radiated green-white energy like a Mako reactor would electricity, all the green lightning bolts in the world.

Cloud had screamed when Fuhito-Zirconiade casually threw a sizzling energy ball that tore through a building like Bolt spell through water and turned the threes behind it sticks and pulverized the mountain face behind that. His hands had shaken when he had tried to make himself shoot. He had felt his heart shatter into sharp, fragile chips when it turned against father-Chaos, screamed so his own ears hurt and shot, his aim miserable. But Chaos had done something, in the green light of Zirconiade he had seen the Summon within his father as a red chasm where the next bolt had fallen endlessly, he had still seen it from a distance when the next came. And the next. His father, Cloud had realized his mouth still tasting of horror, could absorb energy! But Zirconiade was damn near indestructible and the sky had burned red and green like fireworks from Helheim.

In the end it was Sears who dealt the killing shot, his father back to himself and practically unconscious. That was the day.

When night had fallen it had rained and no one could lay done even when they were about to pass out from exhaustion. Cloud had only just managed to fall asleep few hours before sunrise when the sirens had woken him up; they had never been used before to his knowledge. His first instinct had been to find father or at least someone he knew: Barrett, Sears, Hákon, anyone. He had grabbed his boots and coat as he had run out, grabbed both his riffle and pistol. Outside, in the shifting light that came from windows, people had been running around hacking things and shooting things that he couldn't see clearly, other than yellow twinkles of light that were small and obviously vicious. Halfway to starting to panic now, Cloud had made his way to the main building, hurrying across the narrow strip of muddy, torn, scourged grass that separated them instead of taking the corridor from the med building, which might have been safer, but would have taken longer.

He hadn't noticed the way the earth bulged and rocked unnaturally behind him until a few seconds after he had entered the building and turned to close the door, like some giant nest of creatures had been heaving and spasming beneath the surface. They were all holding a dagger and a lantern. They were all much too big.

Hákon had been there with Donna, looking surprised and a little frightened, his face pale and with a tense look in his jaw. Donna had a red streak going down her right arm and the room had smelled metallic like blood, he had noticed.

"What's wrong?" he had asked immediately.

"There has been a containment failure in the laboratory building," Donna had said promptly. Her tone wasn't laughing like usual, or even light: for once it was deeply serious, as was her body language. Cloud had looked at her askance, the change in personality somehow a lot more unnerving than the fact that she'd just announced that killer mutant tonberries, and thank Gaia the Mako program had taken precedence the Raven project because that would have been every bit as bad as Zirconiade, had made their way out of their cages. Mako enhanced tonberries with green, luminous, bloodlusting eyes, like originals hadn't been bad enough. These were fast!

In the end Cloud had no idea how he'd ended up with guarding the chicken wire perimeter, trying to keep the menace inside where they couldn't kill innocent bystanders at least. The best shots of them, his father still out of it and excluded, had been shuffled around a lot, first connected to one unit and then another, whoever needed the cover fire most at the moment. And when that was almost under control an airship had arrived from Gongaga, heavy and metal-bright against the night sky like a dragon.

Cloud had shot three mutant tonberries out of reflex when he should have shot Sephiroth and then the menaces. Tired out of his wits, Cloud had scolded himself: Bad Cloud. Stupid dreams. Somebody had drawn a deep breath.

He had been taken prisoner? Hel's high halls.

Cloud turned to look at the man and he was in for a nasty surprise. It was the general, the voice was right and so was the face, matured, but easily recognizable with the fine cheek bones and pale, regal perfection that was almost, but not quite, girly. Then he shook himself out of it. First the Soldier on the cliff and now General Sephiroth, he should choose his sympathies more carefully. Damned stupid dreams. The man probably the most dangerous man alive and he had captured Cloud, lack of handcuffs aside. Actually it was a little insulting, the way the man thought he was harmless.

"Where are my parents? Did you kill them?" he demanded to know, but for some reason he didn't think so. There was only a minimal change in the Soldier's posture and none in his face, but Cloud was sure he was uncomfortable. Well, he was still technically a child and looked more like one than he really was and a child asking whether you had killed their parents would make anyone at least a little uncomfortable unless they were complete assholes.

"We haven't killed anyone. We were going to demand that Avalanche surrenders to us since you were obviously in no condition to fight us. Then a female scientist marches into the open dragging the body of the unconscious Turk leader, holding a knife at his throat, and holds him hostage. My men are negotiating as we speak." Sephiroth's words were clipped and precise and Cloud was sure he was furious. He felt something bubbling deep inside his chest and for a panicked moment he didn't know whether it was laugh or cry. Then his lips parted and he laughed, laughed until his midriff ached, laughed until he couldn't breath and small black and red dots began to dance in his eyes all over the man's puzzled face. Wouldn't it be silly to die of laughter after a night like that, he thought desperately. At least his clothes couldn't get any dirtier they already were, full of green grass stains and red blotches, he could roll in the ground in peace.

"That was my mother," he explained when he could pronounce the words again. His throat was raspy. He briefly wondered just what mother had done to get the infamous Veld at her mercy.

"Explains a lot," Sephiroth said simply and to his utter embarrassment Cloud felt his cheeks reddening. It had been a real, honest-to-gods compliment. He couldn't keep from touching his cheek.

"Are you going to kill me?" Again, he could ask that with ease, because he was sure the man wouldn't do it. Why keep Cloud alive that long just to decapitate him now? Sephiroth's expression barely changed at all, but there was a tiny ripple of something Cloud didn't know name for at the back of his eyes green eyes.

"You are a child and not responsible of yourself in the eyes of the law; I merely want to question you. When we first met you mentioned dreams. Tell me of them." Cloud bristled at the child part, but it worked for him and the man kind of had a right to know. He didn't say it, but his face turned sterner and sterner the more Cloud told of the four dreams and he had a feeling that just maybe he wasn't the only one having dreams. There was a connection, more important than odd sleepwalking.

He hadn't told anyone else. He didn't want to appear obsessed.

It scared him a little, but more than anything it was exiting. Not terrifying, green lightning bolts throwing monster kind of exiting, that he had gone through and it wasn't fun at all. Had someone died? He hadn't dared to ask, but probably. Probably many someones too. His breath hitched and he breathed deep, inhaling and exhaling as slow as he could. It's just pain. It will stop.

"Why have we dreamed together?" Sephiroth demanded to know when it became obvious his story had faltered and Cloud was only too happy to be distracted. It was a voice that was used to obedience and even though he was prisoner and not willing to help at all he had already opened his mouth when he realized he had no idea.

"How am I supposed to know? Maybe we visited the Gate of Horn at the same time." His mother had a copy of the Gate of Ivory, Gate of Horn hanging on the wall in her lab. It was a captivating piece, full of gentle shadows and four high pillars that were broken and bent into dreamlike shape of two gates. One was dirty white, the other earthly brown and both were ornate with primitive carvings, mist and odd shapes hiding behind them, more beautiful behind the ivory one.

"What is Gate of Horn?" Belatedly Cloud realized that the man probably had little patience for old myths. Too bad, though, since he had literally asked for it.

"It's old Fabalesian legend my mother told me once. She said that all dreamers travel to two gates in their sleep and all dreams come through them. One is made of ivory and the dreams that come through it mean nothing at all. The second is made of horn and those dreams can be scary at times, but they are always true." It was a rainy weekend like any other, the rising sun tucked away behind a wall of clouds. He had just gone through a minor end of the world and it was enough to almost make him believe in dream even in the bright daylight, though bright it wasn't at the moment. He observed the man that sat on a boulder few feet apart. General Sephiroth was a legend alive, the Hero of Wutai War, the Silver General or Demon General depending on whom you were asking from, the finest Soldier ever without doubt. Some said that he had been blessed by the war god Tyr and that was why no army or man could lose under Sephiroth's command. The man looked deceptively invulnerable, but Cloud could remember the dream-pictures of the man tied to a table or suspended in a Mako tank, ghastly green and eyes tightly shut against pain.

"What kind of idiot dunks somebody into Mako? That's dangerous," he asked before he could help himself.

"Hojo," Sephiroth answered with totally non-descript voice and Cloud got the feeling that he didn't really want to talk about their dreams. Well, they were enemies, it wasn't like they had to communicate.

"I want to kill him. Not because of you," he hastened to explain when Sephiroth's eyebrow twitched, "I have a reason of my own." He hated Hojo and he hated Fuhito. He hated so much it hurt. At least Sephiroth hadn't killed anybody yet.

* * *

AN: This was terribly difficult to write for some reason. I hope Gate of Ivory is going to be easier. We'll get Verhandi capturing Veld there.


	15. Chapter XI: Gate of Ivory

**Chapter XI: Gate of Ivory**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

A bad day was when you had a toothache, but couldn't get appointment for a dentist, you burnt the dinner and mislabelled your blood samples and your husband was far away in another continent. A horrible, miserable, gods-awful day was when you went through everything she had only to get a Shin-Ra invasion to top it off and when you went to drag your unconscious leader and husband to safety you found a Turk aside your leader's bed. It was warm in the medical, now only hers, the whole medical and laboratory wing, but Verhandi wrapped herself up in her abused labcoat, regardless of the red-brown stains and dirt on it and stood very straight to keep from shivering as those indifferent, assessing eyes raked over her. His blue suit was so crisp and flawless it was an insult to her.

"It would seem you have had a bit of a problem," the man said casually, his eyes intense on Verhandi's face, but something in his demeanour nagged her. She couldn't tell why, but she was sure that the man was only faking his uncaring aloofness.

"Kind of," she answered warily and why didn't she keep gun there? "Have you been watching us?" She hoped Vincent would wake, but she knew she couldn't count on good luck now. And, beneath the fright and the strain of hellish day and night anger was bubbling, hot and slowly making its way to the surface. Fuhito, intellectual and challenging Fuhito who betrayed them all, whom she had respected once. Vincent, for getting hurt and leaving her hanging even though he had promised! Shin-Ra's presence materializing from out of nowhere and threatening to kill them all. Even Cloud for being nowhere to be seen, she couldn't even know if he was still alive, and now this man appearing in her laboratory waving his gun and demanding something she didn't even know if she had to give.

"Yes, I was lucky enough to see the latest part of it. I'm not sure though, when you started." The man's face didn't turn, but his eyes strayed to Elfé's ashen face for a split second.

"Yesterday." She took one step behind and with a slight jolt her hip came in touch with a cart. She knew she had an unopened bottle of rich, tawny ginger ale on it, Elfé's favourite brand. The local-made bottle was of thick green glass, it was heavy and big, one and half litres.

"And what has happened to your brave leader?" The cadence of the voice was mocking, but Verhandi suddenly recognised the odd look in the man's eyes. She had seen it often enough in a mirror, worrying over Vincent when he was on a dangerous mission. The Turk wasn't going to let it show, but he feared for Elfé. She didn't have an inkling of why he would, but she didn't have to understand it to use it.

"She had a Summon symbiote… parasite violently ripped from her body. Her ribs were bruised, she went into a shock and her spleen was fairly ripped in two." And thank-Gaia-very-much for Curaga spell. Verhandi made her words as callous as his had been and didn't move her hand an inch even though her fingers itched with impulse. She was rewarded when the man's head turned sharply towards Elfé, forgetting a cowed, soft scientist in front of him for a second.

Now her hand snaked back and she hit the Turk over the head with all she had. It wasn't much after all she'd had gone through already, but the bottle might as well have been a steel pole and the man in his neatly pressed, clean suit dropped like a rock. To her shock Verhandi had to drop the bottle to keep from beating the unconscious man with it again and again like a madwoman. Instead she dropped to her knees and began to go through the man's possession, hoping to find some clue of his identity and hoping against hope he was important enough to use as a hostage. Her hands were pale and shaking and for a little while she thought she would pass out.

This was the truth; much to his shame Veld had allowed himself to be outwitted and knocked unconscious with a bottle. This was the lie; he had been helpless in Verhandi Valentine's grasp as she held his life as hostage. He had been out of his own control and again he had paid the price, but Veld was a professional and it wouldn't have been the first time to fight while suffering from concussion. He could have overpowered the exhausted woman holding him and avoided the rest of the terrorists for long enough for Hewley or Fair to save him, but he was well aware that this charade was all that was standing between his daughter and a death penalty handed by Shin-Ra. Elfé, Felicia, had looked so much like dear departed Fiona and he didn't know what name to call her with, but he knew he had to protect her and so he allowed this mirage, a beaten Turk helpless in the hands of his mortal enemy's minion, a comfortable, beautifully logical, safe front. It was for everyone's best.

* * *

He honestly hadn't expected to get so involved with the conversation, only his own day hadn't been all that easy either, and the gods knew Sephiroth's were never uneventful. Judging by the expression on the boy's face, helplessly big-eyed and with stern mouth but shy glances, his reluctant companion hadn't expected to talk much either. Though if the red-rimmed eyes and slumped shoulders were any indication he was so tired he couldn't keep from saying whatever he thought. The rain was finally ceasing, but the blond in gray and blue clothes still very much resembled a wet, skittish dog. He smelled a lot better, though Sephiroth had no intention to hand out compliments; this wasn't exactly an interrogation so there was no reason to make the boy uncomfortable with his enhanced sense of smell. Even if he smelled like sharp and clear gunpowder, angry adrenalin and pine-scented soap.

"I have never sleepwalked," he answered a question and was rewarded with a shrug.

"Maybe it's just me then." Yes, the boy named Cloud was willing enough to have a civilized conversation with no tasteless slurs or empty threats though Sephiroth couldn't think of a single thing he might have done to invite such bold and inoffensive behaviour. Cloud was so young that Sephiroth wouldn't have thought badly of him even if he had shown obvious fear or even cried, but he wasn't like the others who'd attempted to hide their fear in front of Sephiroth in the past. His motives were unclear, his behaviour unusual at best, and his chosen topic of conversation defying easy dismissal. He didn't understand Cloud, and while that was nothing unusual he had a feeling that this boy was something just south of strange.

"Why do you put up with Hojo? You are now one of the most powerful men in the world so surely you could do something to shut him up and leave you alone." An innocent, naïve observation and so wrong. Shin-Ra's army might be his to command, but he was Shin-Ra's. It didn't pay to try explaining this to outsiders so he kept his silence. His freedom was limited and much of his power was illusionary. Surely a man that commanded the lives and loyalty of whole army commanded his own life also, people thought, but in truth the bells and whistles meant nothing at all.

"I guess you won't, then." The blond boy sighed and squirmed a little, not comfortable on the ground despite the thick cushion of mulch, dead leaves and grass. His every muscle probably ached after the kind of night he'd have, not that Sephiroth knew what had caused the wanton destruction in the first place. He fully intended to find out, though the boy was a lot less forthcoming with the destruction of Avalanche HQ than he had been with his dreams.

Sephiroth was always aware of the reasons he did what he did or didn't do, but there were reasons behind his reasons and at times those were a lot less clear. He knew that the now acknowledged dreams and Cloud's pestering about Hojo had awakened a passive-aggressive trait in him that had slept for long, a wish to irritate those holding his leash by making a decision he knew they would disapprove but hadn't known to forbid. He knew that Veld's life was worth a lot and that he could wring valuable concessions from the Turk leader in return of backing any story the man might come up with to explain what he was doing in Cosmo Canyon to get himself kidnapped, but only if this man lived to be the Turk leader.

Sephiroth knew that he had a reputation as a merciless man and mostly it was well deserved. But now he wanted to have mercy on a baby terrorist and he had no idea why. What was the reason behind this reason? It was subtly dangerous, it alone certainly wouldn't have kept him from destroying this ragtag band of criminals like he had obliterated much stronger foes in Wutai, but it eroded the resolve he would have employed against the other temptations.

He had originally buried his passive-aggressive trait because it had gotten him into more trouble than the satisfaction was worth, but now that it was awakened there was much accumulated anger to leash. Hojo who had created Deepground to top off everything he had already done to the tree of them, now only two. Heidegger who had run it. Scarlet who had it in for him for daring to refuse her advances in public and pushed high-prised prostitutes, soldiers and even female Turks at him in hopes of catching him pants down and having something to hold over him, would have thrown the woman Soldiers if she'd had any pull with them. There was Shin-Ra pestering him to get a family and breed like he was some stud chocobo, these and a hundred smaller insults that could be avenged so easily. The Turk surveillance was a big part of what had kept him so obedient and to slip that leash was tempting. And he could let a boy that had shown him mercy in dreams to get away with his family. It was a completely ridiculous reason, but when Zack came to him with the terrorists' ultimatum he realized he was reluctantly willing to be convinced.

"Get up," he gave an order and the boy stood with better cheer now. Zack gave him a long look full of anger, anger for the boy's sake and Cloud blushed beet red, looking defiantly away.

"Are you sure you want to go back, Cloud? I mean, what kind of people make children fight? This is pretty much a hopeless war too." Zack's voice was gently encouraging, but tinted with something Sephiroth remembered had been aimed at him when he had told Angeal and his new protégé how he had practiced his limit breaks at the age of twelve. Luckily Cloud didn't take the pity any better than he had, either. What would they have done with the boy, other than given him up to the Shin-Ra Family Services? He didn't want to know what his aide had in mind.

"Have I made disparaging remarks about your parents?" Cloud's voice was cutting, but he still wouldn't look Zack to the eye.

In the end he was left with a memory of an adversary that hadn't looked at him with wide-eyed terror like he was going to burn down his village, poison the well and salt the fields. He didn't know what it was supposed to be worth to normal people.

* * *

In the medical Elfé opened her eyes, but didn't see any reason to keep them open. It was quiet and there was no one with her, not even Sears. Was Sears even alive anymore? Why couldn't she have loved Sears instead?

Fuhito had betrayed her. Fuhito had plotted her death to commit a genocide. Elfé's chest hurt like a bahamut had sat on it, crushing weight that made her nauseous and her cheeks were wet with tears, hot against her cold skin. She could only lie there and wish she hadn't lived to remember what Fuhito had done. She didn't know how long it took, but eventually a cold resolve stole over her and she sat up with a jerk. Every bone in her body ached like hell and she hated it being so obstinate. She hated her feelings for being so obstinate. Why wouldn't they give up and die? Fuhito had made perfectly clear what she was worth to him! Her anger setting down to an iron-strong determination to prove to her heart who was the real master in their tandem, she tried to stand to go look for someone and ask them if Fuhito was dead and not cry one more tear, but her head was spinning so. The bedclothes under her were soft and flesh-warm like a hug.

_It's all right to cry, Felicia. It's a __cathartic experience to get it out of your system. _She surrendered to her aching back, her head hitting the pillow with an audible thud, shock drying her tears. Her mind reeled and spun like she had once. Her father had taken her there, to the fair. She had ridden the carousel, all bright red and yellow and pure white like snow, and music and motion that cast a spell so she could fly, over and over in circles. It was such a beautiful dream. Felicia? Her father had called her Felicia? Her father…

A bad day was when you were stranded in Shin-Ra's proverbial backyard, communications cut off, without a Heal or Cure or even a potion and all your men incapacitated. A horrible, miserable, gods-awful day? Your beloved turned out to be a genocidal maniac and when your long-lost memories returned your father turned out to be an assassin working for your mortal enemy.

"Oh shit." She was crying again, she was crying a river. This was how the dream ended.

* * *

AN: I'm back!


	16. Interlude IV: Lucrecia

**Interlude IV: Lucrecia**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

Shelke who wasn't Rui anymore dreamed of another life, another name, other woman's tragedy. Rosso the Crimson did her best to purify her of all emotions, but under the guise of work she got tastes of Lucrecia Crescent, her daily drug to keep her sane and remind her that she wasn't the only one leading a messed up life, her sad, passionate ghost in the machine.

Lucrecia was from a noble, old family and wouldn't have needed to work for a day in her life. Would in fact have been preferred to not work a day in her life, but truth was that she needed something she was good at. She had only just entered the society as a debutante when she first met Grimoire Valentine, but she had already found out the hard way that she wasn't cut out for that life; she was much too open and friendly and honest to play the game of climbing the social ladder and securing herself a good-looking, rich husband and that was only the beginning of her problems. What are you good at, Grimoire Valentine had asked and she had answered smiling: nothing. She was a clumsy dancer, she sang off pitch and while she could play piano she was nothing special. She had never won a game of cards, she didn't read poems and her watercolour paintings were technically adequate, but uninspired fruit arrangements and sceneries. She wasn't any good at tennis or croquet and while she liked riding she did so dressed in trousers and refused to hunt poor foxes that hadn't done a thing to her, though if pressured she would have admitted to a fantasy of hunting her aunt Perpetua.

If anything, she had said, I'm good at math and biology. In her circles that was nothing to be proud of, but much to her surprise Grimoire Valentine, the most stern and intimidating-looking man she knew thought otherwise. He had encouraged her to enter a good University and Lucrecia had done so out of sheer surprise. No one had ever been so insistent at her behalf.

At Eglantine Lizitsin University for Women she had been the honours student, the beauty with the brains, but that didn't help her low self-esteem much. Grimoire Valentine had name in the science circles already, some thought he was even greater than Gast Faremis and Reeve Tuesti and so Lucrecia had felt humbled and grateful when this kindly, fatherly man asked her to be his laboratory assistant. She hadn't for a moment thought it was her own merits that made him make the offer, oh no, she thought he thought of her as a daughter he never had. Grimoire had had a son, though. He had often talked about introducing Lucrecia to Vincent, but their schedules seemed to never agree.

Then they got involved with the Chaos Project.

It was glorious research, a whole new world within theirs that was only beginning to reveal its secrets. They discovered Chaos and Omega, the trickster god of Wutaiians and apokalupsis eschaton, the revelation at the end of age. Such terrifying, exhilarating secrets and for the first time ever Lucrecia felt she was special, irreplaceable. Later she was sure she was being punished for that. Their theory should have been sound, but somehow Chaos wrenched itself free from their constraints. She could only stand looking the impending doom, without even blinking, but then a body bigger and harder than hers was between her and the blast. Grimoire's blood was wet and sticky on her and she knew there was no chance even as she tired to Revive. The father closer to her than her biological one closed his eyes to never open them again.

Lucrecia remembered little of the time that followed, going through the motions in thick fog of grief as their research was declared nonsense and she was discreetly transferred to the Jenova Project. Maybe Shin-Ra thought that what they had discovered of Omega was too dangerous to ever publish. She only cared about Grimoire's good name and how they had sullied it.

The love between him and Vincent developed gradually. When she first met him she thought him to be a typical Turk and her opinion of them wasn't high. He was just another man in blue suit and blood on his hands, with no surname she knew of. In hindsight, maybe he considered her a duty at first, someone to look after for the sake of someone else, but in the small Shin-Ra Mansion they were bound to see each other a lot and even though they weren't very talkative, Vincent by nature and Lucrecia because she was still grieving, they eventually became friends. She became aware that he was a good-looking man, she would have lied had she tried to claim she never thought of that. Then one day Vincent took Lucrecia to the inn in Nibelheim and treated her a lunch. It was a fun day, they talked of everything and nothing serious and after they returned to the Mansion Lucricia invited Vincent to play cards with her. Of course she lost every game, but she didn't mind. As Vincent gentlemanly left to his own room Lucrecia knew she was in love. He became her sun and moon that night, Lucrecia was scared by the intensity of her feelings, but she laughed at the danger and gave in. She couldn't not love him any more she could not breathe.

Sweet, loving, gentle time began, first accidental touches and innocent flirting, then they moved quickly into bold kisses and eventually she gave her virginity to him, euphoric. He made her feel safe, he made her feel treasured, but there was one more thing she yearned for. This whole time she wondered whether Vincent would trust her with his surname. She postponed asking it, knowing she would be left devastated if he refused, and then Vincent told it of his own initiation. And what should have been a sweet, joyful victory turned into yet another mouthful of ashes; her lover was Vincent Valentine.

She had practically killed the man's father and now she had seduced him! She was sickened by herself. And as Vincent came to find out, a shocked, self-loathing Lucrecia was Lucrecia bound to do something stupid. And again, it was someone else that paid for her foolishness. Though Vincent was heartbroken and confused by her sudden rejection he allowed her to slip through his fingers, but he still considered her to be under his protection.

(Also the men were a cast of fools: Vincent Valentine underestimated Hojo just because he was a scientist, Hojo underestimated Lucrecia just because she was officially his.)

She didn't cry for herself even as she realized what kind of man she had doomed herself with, she had no tears left for her unborn son or the Planet even as the terrible visions left her screaming and shaking. All was spent as she set up the Chaos Summoning once more and somehow, through some mercy she didn't deserve but Vincent did, her lover opened his eyes. His heart was beating, his body was warm and she was rewarded with one last bittersweet kiss. But even that wasn't enough to save him, save any of them, and as she bled to death on the once-white sheets she smiled a small, relieved smile. At least she got to escape, and till the very end she felt guilty that she was relieved to escape even alone. But she had loved and been loved and during her last, seven months she had learned to hate. It mattered, also till the very end.

And the child lived.

Personality is a complicated construction, our memories is our past, is what makes us the people we are. Shelke dreamed of Lucrecia's love and regrets after regrets. Shelke the Transparent was indeed a fitting name for her, a girl-woman who became glass through which you could see what was looted from a digital corpse.

White sheets in a closet  
Red sheets on a bed  
A child in its mother  
The mother in agony  
The father in the hallway  
The hallway in the house  
The house in the town  
The town in the night  
Death in a cry  
And the child in life

* * *

AN: The poem is First Day by Jacques Prévert. I don't own.


	17. Chapter XII: Contrasts

**Chapter XII:**** Contrasts**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

What is it like to be part of two separate timelines at the same time/space, be inside both, be aware of both because you are the setting in which they reside? Gaia is in a box which is in her hands. Gaia is torn between two histories, her mind split between a possibility where Jenova lives on and the history is like an approaching train accident, something she will have to witness because she cannot stop it and the other which holds promise, but Jenova's legacy still lives on even there.

The second one is not elementarily better for her now, not in the grand scheme of things, but the ripple effect is spreading and eventually it will resemble the most likely outcome only little.

And the probabilities are changing.

* * *

Sitting in Líf Wisteria's kitchen and sipping the coffee she had brewed for them from pink and white cup, Vincent thought of the two years on the road. Their second diaspora and he was warm inside when he remembered how little Verhandi had complained when most would have packed their things, moved back in with their parents and told to call when the chaos was over, but bothered by Cloud not complaining at all. It wasn't because he was being brave or trying to make him proud, though that was true also, it was because his son had no idea it was something to be brave about. Cloud remembered their first two years on the run better than his life in Nibelheim.

Technically, they had settled down to the small, rocky island near Fabales in silence an year ago, but the building of the HQ and various people getting repeatedly sighted near the Icicle inn could be added to the count as far as Vincent was concerned. Elfé had left them once she had seen them settled, much to everyone's, and Sears' especially, grief. No one was surprised, but only Vincent and Verhandi knew the real reason, they had hosted and hidden Veld one night when he and Felicia had talked for hours in the half ready medical, no electricity or inner walls, only dim shell of a building and cup of coffee after cup of coffee until it was all cold and bitter. But now the morning had come; Barrett was their new leader, their numbers were smaller that they had been in Cosmo Canyon before the Helheim had broken loose, but everyone was as enhanced as Verhandi could make them and while they would have to hide from the Fabalesians in general they were settled down.

And that had ended with Verhandi taking him and Cloud to a small apartment above a cobbler's shop where Tomas and Líf Wisteria lived with their oldest son, Leof.

It was a particularly humid day, the kind that left a person wishing for a nice, clean towel after just sitting at shade. Millettiae was experiencing the worst heat wave in twenty years and while most people took refuge inside their homes for shade and clockwork fans, a Fabalesian feature Vincent had seen nowhere else, Tomas and Verhandi were outside on the backyard, toiling in the garden, armed with hoes, thick gloves and red water bottles. At least Leof got to work at the shop. Vincent had politely expressed his concern over their host labouring in such weather, though he had laughed it off and had told him that he would be fine. Verhandi had whispered to him that her father was obsessive about the lawn, making sure every day that it was nice and even and that the grass and soil were fully aerated. Líf was supposed to be equally obsessive about her flowers, attacking the weeds with zeal fitting a Soldier while talking soothingly to her azaleas and yellow irises and all her other little bijous.

There were foxgloves in an old, brown-stained bowl on the table and Vincent knew Cloud had always been intrigued by them. The purple flowers were delicate and beautiful and Cloud had told once he could imagine foxes putting them in their paws.

"Another name for the foxglove is digitalis. They are heart medicine even in that raw form; if you have a heart attack eating one might save you, but to healthy people they are poisonous," Vincent explained. Cloud nodded, smiling with nothing but curious contentment.

"Isn't the world well ordered? There's heart medicine growing on the verge of roads like dandelion or any weed." Líf Wisteria hummed in a vaguely agreeable way to this comment and her cup was set to the plate with a clink. The fans kept ticking at two different paces. Not much discomfited Vincent, be it in fight, espionage or social life.

"So," Líf said stiffly, eyeing his clawed arm from her seat at the head of the long table. "I hear you're an ex-Turk." He had been right thinking that Avalanche wouldn't be mentioned in his list of sins here, especially since Verhandi was an active member too, but Shin-Ra connections were entirely different matter.

"An ex-Turk?" Zénaïde, Cloud's red-haired cousin, recently reached adulthood and very much aware of it, echoed doubtfully from her grandmother's left. Her face bore some resemblance to Verhandi's, her countenance none.

"Well. Isn't that nice." Her voice was chilly like shaved ice. Vincent kept his polite smile fixed firmly in place and purposefully kept from looking at Cloud, who was certain to be glaring at them both. With no prospect of telling Piekna of this, or even indeed meeting Piekna at all, meeting the grandparents was obviously loosing much of the allure the idea had originally held and he was speculating what would be the most unobtrusive way of letting Cloud's extended family know that they were only estranging him, not Vincent. All the while a small, spiteful voice that sounded a little like Chaos, but Vincent knew belonged to himself, whispered him to let it be. Cloud was his son, just as Verhandi was his wife, and he wanted to see them taking his side even while he was aware it was just his insecurities talking. He did his best to ignore it.

He knew that a woman like Verhandi could have done much better in terms of safety and stability, respectability also though few would openly scoff in Fabales now. He knew he loved Verhandi better than anyone could, maybe even better than Aske had though he certainly wasn't crass enough to ask. If Verhandi said it was enough who was he to doubt her word?

* * *

There are differences, there are similarities. One Cloud Strife is sitting across his grandmother in Millettiae, drinking coffee and seething at how she doesn't appreciate his father enough. If she had seen him that fateful day in Cosmo Canyon she would. The other Cloud Strife says something that sounds suspiciously like oh shit when his training partner's hand closes around his wrist and then Cloud is flying. And then he crashes into the dirty green practice mats and his partner jumps up and down with glee, not shouting how he did it, but it doesn't lack much.

There are two Aeris Gainsboroughs, too, and the very next day they are both tending their flowers in an abandoned church when a man in a Shin-Ra uniform crashes through the roof.

* * *

Genesis Rhapsodos going insane and getting killed had been Hollander's fault. Hollander was mostly Hojo's faul, true, but being provoked only counted for so much. If Genesis had died in the first place; by now Zack was really confused by all these clones appearing from left, right and center, by who had or hadn't died and when. So they had thought Deepground was bad? They had had no idea.

The wind had picked up and whispered to Zack's ear. Hollander was breathing heavily, sweat trickled from his temple down his cheeks, but his eyes were determinate, desperate kind of determinate. The man was far from intimidating by normal standards, mid-sized and well over his years of youth and no self-respecting villain should be caught dead wearing bright yellow shirt under his labcoat, but among Soldiers certain scientists inspired far more fear than most terrorists and the man looked like he wasn't playing with a full deck. Within the Sector 5 Plate Interior, just as he was telling Hollander to come to his senses, the Buster Sword appeared from behind a column and blocks his path.

It was Angeal. Angeal was standing between him and Hollander, effectively blocking his way and Hollander's face was turning from that of a rabid animal into something so smug it made Zack want to kick his teeth in.

"What are you planning to do?" he asked, noticing with a sense of foreboding that Angeal's sword smelled faintly of blood. It wasn't anything uncommon; Soldier senses were sharp and the smell of blood clung to the steel even after every brownish stain was cleaned and polished into oblivion, but now he felt troubled. Angeal wasn't supposed to be there, he knew it.

"World domination". They had often joked of it after drinking Midgar bootleg, and after drinking that anything with label was kid stuff, how they would acquire world domination and what they would do with the world. Zack had often opted to miniskirts as official uniforms in his army of doom, Angeal had decided he would never built a super-computer smarter than he was and Sephiroth had only snorted. Now Angeal's voice was flat, his face was emotionless like stone. His mentor had a wicked sense of humor, joking with him like few commanding officers would. Even calling him Puppy and Zack had to admit that if he had a tail he would be constantly wagging it, but now Angeal's voice was drained from all humor. His lips were just going through the motions. And Angeal like that did not make a happy puppy.

"Stop with the boring jokes," he tried, hoping that his mentor would laugh it away or at least smirk and they could catch Hollander together.

"Revenge, then". He had known there was no hope of that, not really, so now it was up to him to talk his friend out of his funk. The man in front of him was like a rock, in the pale, gray light like chiseled from some dark stone, but he was fairly vibrating with something Zack just didn't understand. To think he had thought Angeal had gotten away with less baggage than Sephiroth, mad scientists were good for no one.

"Revenge for what?" It couldn't be Hollander, as much as the man might have deserved it, because Angeal was protecting than man, who disgustingly smug smile was getting more and more smug every minute. Hojo maybe, that one had been the last straw that had broken Genesis' back. Then, there was a wing.

A long, graceful, pearly white wing, so flawless and ethereal in the steel-gray, concrete-gray Plate Interior it was like from some different dimension. Like a Valkyrie's, was Zack's first thought and then he had to forcibly choke back hysteria-tinted laughter at he thought, of his friend and mentor in a white dress and busty chest armor. He would have made a butt ugly Valkyrie. It wasn't really funny.

"I have become a monster, I feel like a monster, and as a monster, I can only think of these two reasons," Was the answer, Angeal's voice even flatter now, but at least there was no anger. he should take what he could get, Zack thought, when a Soldier First Class began ranting about how he was a monster. Was that from the Loveless, he thought, Genesis had quoted it at every possible situation and few impossible too, as far as Zack was concerned, but Angeal? Of fuck!

"Those aren't monster wings, idiot. They are angel wings and it even fits your name." Angel wings were good, angels were gender neutral. Now Angeal smiled, but Zack wasn't patting himself to the back yet; it wasn't a happy smile, the lips just happened to curve up.

"Angel wings, eh? What kind of dreams you think angels should have?" Now Zack didn't have time to answer, he opened his mouth, but Angeal wasn't listening to him.

"Angels only dream of one thing. To be human." He thrust Zack in the stomach without warming and sent him flying. Zack stood back up, nausea rolled in his stomach, but now was not a good time to throw up. He showed no will to fight, let only a smile show on his face. He wasn't going to show how much that hurt, in more levels than just the physical. So he carried his long smiles and shook his head at Angeal, knowing he couldn't save his friend, at least not right now, but he wasn't going to provoke a fight either, even if he had to let the rodent named Hollander go. Even that didn't matter; Angeal threw a spell at him with no warning, without even a twitch of muscle on his face. No time to counterattack, Zack tried to block the attack. He was sturdy and endured, the floor beneath him wasn't. It broke apart and sent him flying downwards towards the slums, down, down. His heart was hurting. He had always understood why Angeal and Sephiroth didn't like talking of Genesis, but now he knew.

The crash sent wood splinters everywhere and knocked Zack's breath away with a thud so heavy lesser man, less enhanced, would not have remained conscious, maybe wouldn't have lived at all. Genesis should have just taken Hollander's head and be done with it, he thought, but he was hurting more than cracked ribs could account for. Angeal was hurting him. It made no sense.

He'd lain in less comfortable places: a soggy tent while on long-range patrol, for instance, or draped half over his desk when too many bureaucratic crises attacked at once and why had no one told him that being Soldier was so much paper work? His head thrummed with ache, but it felt light too, like someone had filled it with helium. He really preferred the soggy tent to this, but at least the ground under him was pretty soft. And he smelt… flowers. Like back home in Gongaga, the air was full of fragrant pollen, but there were no flowers in Midgar. Nothing would grow in Midgar except algae and moss. Then he heard slight footsteps, grass shuffling, and his eyes were open on instinct alone.

If Angeal had had a wing like the Valkyrie, handmaidens of Odin who brought the souls of those who died fighting to Asgard, she was an angel in Heaven, lack of wings aside. In the soft light of the place, church, stood a young brown-haired woman, clad in white and lightest blue. Her eyes were greener than even Sephiroth's, her arms were the most beautiful he had ever seen and her hands were fine and pale and delicate like seashells. There were flowers everywhere, rich azaleas and purple foxgloves so mysterious in the shadows, roses of all colours and evening primroses, willowherbs, bold golden daffodils, violets, snapdragons and forget-me-nots. Many flowers he didn't even know the name for were all nodding their heads to him like they wanted to make him feel welcome. The pain of his head and ribs was dulled and he could only sit there, wordless.

"Did I die and go to Heaven? You must be an angel," he managed to whisper eventually. Even her laugh was lovely.

"Not at all, but you need help. Where are you hurting?" She sobered then and helped him up. His scratches and burns, she decided, needed taking care of.

Zack knew he didn't have time for this. Hollander was still free, Angeal had snapped and he had to report to Sephiroth. Only he couldn't help himself. As long as Aeris was looking at him, smiling to him, the stinging of betrayal was dulled. He would have to return to the real world soon enough, world of heroes and villains, duty and steel smelling faintly bloody no matter how much you polished it, but he would take one afternoon for himself. Aeris, even her name was like a poem, Aeris Gainsborough. It wasn't like he could catch up with either man anymore anyway.

"Ow. Be gentle with me, angel…" He was flirting shamelessly and he knew it.

"Hush now, silly man," Aeris said, but her touch was even lighter as she applied disinfectant into a cut in his right arm.

She said she wouldn't go to a date with him when he offered it as a reward for saving him, but she went anyway, under the guise of showing him around and he bought her a pink ribbon for her hair. He would return soon enough, but he got to steal a little of fairy tale first and he knew that if you rejected offers freely given soon you would be given none.

"_I have twenty-three tiny wishes, but you probably won't remember them all, so I put them all together into one... I'd like to spend more time with you_"


	18. Chapter XIII: In the harm's way

**Chapter XIII****: In the harm's way**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

It was a summer, but it didn't matter much that far in north. Technically it wasn't freezing, but it was the coldest summer weather Zack had ever had the dubious honor to experience, being originally from souther Gongaga, and he was only too glad to get inside even if the building was an eyesore.

"Welcome to Firerfost One!" Major Celeritas exclaimed, with a sweeping gesture as if he were giving Zack the military base come Mako reactor on a platter. His grin was a little crooked.

"What do you think?" he asked. Zack looked up and down the long corridor. It wasn't anything to come to the north about, leaving Aeris behind.

"I think I've seen more attractive factories." Celeritas snickered like his answer had been everything he'd wanted it to be, and walked away with another sweeping of his hand, inviting Zack to follow. Their footsteps echoed in the wide, dimly lit hallway. The floor beneath their feet was concrete with metal lattices down the centre under which ran many sized pipes, coded for water, high-power lines and Mako in colourful tags. The tags were the only spots of colour there was.

"Before I forget, I got a wire for you," the balding man in Shin-Ra regular blue said and fished a creased paper from his pocket, handing it over to Zack.

_Maarit Monrepos escaped from prison STOP May hold a grudge STOP Corporal Kakósy_

He had to think for a minute before he remembered the not-quite-ninja who wasn't better than the air pirates. Zack half wished the woman would try something. The last fight still tasted sour in his mouth, the winged, Mako-twisted body of his mentor and friend bleeding on the concrete, and an angry chick with pink Electro-Mag Rod would at least be something completely different. He blinked his eyes rapidly and took a deep breath, thinking of angelic Aeris and her flowers blooming where no flower should. That always distracted him from the bad memories.

Partially because he worried for her. No flower should grow in Midgar so Aeris had to do something to them. Sephiroth had banned him from mentioning his girlfriend by name once he had first told of her and he didn't think it was because he feared Zack would chatter his ears off. Worse still, Tseng was keeping an eye on the church, at times personally and if the newly-appointed Turk leader did something himself it had to be important. Yeah, he would be so lucky if one mediocre assassin was his worst worry.

He knew Sephiroth would help the best he could and that made him feel a little better. Maybe the man would help him get a fake passes for the girl and her mother so they could get off Midgar.

They passed dozens of doors leading to a huge open-sided elevator. Further down the corridor, men and maybe women too bundled in long white coats, helms and thick mittens put crates onto a broad conveyer belt, but nobody looked their way as the elevator clunked like a gunshot and begun to move. They were in complete darkness for few seconds as the elevator sunk through the thick floor separating the corridor and the section below. The elevator wasn't stopping; it continued to inch its way down the wall, revealing another part of Firerfost One to the Soldier's eyes. Zack was forced to blink his eyes rapidly for different reason as he looked out into the large sector around them, small forms like busy ants all around the place.

"Are you okay?" Apparently his attempt to keep the tears off his face had been only partially successful; Celeritas was looking at him.

"You look like your eyes and nose are leaking. The smell is pretty strong here, huh?" Yes, it was and especially to a Soldier First Class. The chemical reek was choking as they sunk below Firefrost's industrial zone to the level where the offices were. It felt somehow topsy turvy to Zack; usually the offices were always at high places, but maybe it was the climate. Whatever had possessed Avalanche to choose the Icicle inn's vicinity for their new base of operations? It was cold there, even when it was summer in all sensible places. Celeritas showed Zack to his office and then excused himself, looking for some form that obviously wasn't on his desk. Of all stupid things to make him do, Zack thought, checking on Firefrost in case Avalanche decided to infiltrate it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. He fingered some empty forms on the overflowing desk, bored out of his mind already.

In addition to being one of the best sewers among the Soldier, not that he was ever going to admit that one, Zack was also a masterful origami artist. So skilful and talented, in fact, that Renata Saint Cloud, Forsythia Clover, Tseng who appreciated them because of his passed away Wutaiian father and even Sephiroth kept some of his works around. He originally took it up as a hobby to escape paperwork so it isn't surprising that they all used to be unsigned documents. When Celeritas came back he found three paper lotuses sitting on his desk. He had been thinking of Aeris when he made them.

* * *

Elmyra Gainsborough wondered sometimes if she was doing enough for her daughter. With no father to help raise her or siblings to play with her and no close friends either, because they couldn't afford to have potential hostages for Shin-Ra to take, did Aeris ever see her life as rather empty?

Well, now Aeris had a boyfriend who wouldn't be a hostage, but that didn't calm her down any. She wondered idly how her sensible girl could do something so stupid, but in her heart there was no doubt; she remembered what it was like to be young and in love first time. Aeris wasn't a naïve by any stretch, but she was a sixteen year-old girl with her very first boyfriend. Worse, the boy in question would have been quite a dreamboat if he hadn't been Shin-Ra military dog and practically certainly a ringer inserted into their game to take Aeris out. Obviously Tseng's excuses were no longer good enough for his employers.

And there was that big demonstration coming and she smelled trouble. She was almost sure that the Turks would use it as a distraction to go behind Tseng's back, to send in someone with orders to shoot on sight instead of asking nicely and watching Aeris slip out the back door after refusing. She might be a little paranoid, but that didn't mean they weren't out to get her girl. Just for that she hadn't told the man to take the hike, yet. Just in case, in a one in a million chance, that the man maybe didn't know that Shin-Ra wanted his girlfriend, that he truly loved Aeris, that he might actually be some help. A fat chance, she knew, but she was a desperate woman.

* * *

It was nice to be home again, even if this hadn't been home for all that long. The visit to his grandparent had gone… well, it had gone. Líf Wisteria had been just the type he had pictured her to be, baking things and wearing frilly dresses. She had hugged Cloud more in one week than he had been hugged the whole last year and her hands had felt very soft, if a little wrinkled. Tomas Wisteria had been more obsessed about his lawn that he had predicted, but he had joked a lot. Cloud had also found out that he had two uncles and three cousins, which had been nice. They hadn't approved of Vincent, however, and even though no one had said anything at Cloud's hearing he was sure his mother had gotten into at least one argument about it. About him, and Cloud really thought that Vincent was the coolest father there was, teaching him shooting, Materia use and other neat stuff that most was secret even to the rest of Avalanche. Maybe it wasn't all that safe, but you could fall down the stairs and break your neck anytime. No one survived life anyway.

Hákon certainly wouldn't, what with all the good common sense of a drugged lemming he had. Cloud pushed the Cure into the hidden slot on the clock on his wrist, feeling the snap and settle as the Materia connected with him easily, feeling like static electricity against his skin. Teasing out the Cure spell was an easy feat, though for a brief moment he felt like it was wrong to aim it at Hákon since he had thrown so many offensive spells just the day before. He had gotten pretty good with Bolt, too, he thought and remembered how the tree had been split with a loud bang and smell of ozone, sticks flying to every direction. Now he coaxed the healing warmth out of the green bead and the purple bruise on Hákon's arm disappeared like an ink stain disappears when rinsed with alcohol. The sprain healing wasn't as obvious, but Cloud could feel it.

"You are good with those," Hákon groaned and grinned, stretching his arms. Cloud snorted.

"You should know better than arm-wrestle with Barrett. So you got Mako, big deal. He got the same treatment," he admonished and Hákon's grin turned a little sheepish.

"Sears did it too," he defended himself. Cloud was actually happy the other man had relaxed and laid back enough to be coaxed into doing something stupid; Sears had been so down after Elfé had left. Not that he blamed Elfé, Fuhito's betrayal had been hardest on her, not to mention her strength hadn't returned to the old level despite the intense treatments she had made herself go through like a woman possessed. She couldn't challenge General Sephiroth from equal footing like she once could. No wonder she had been depressed.

"I still wonder how he just let us go like that," Hákon said out loud, like he had followed Cloud's trail of thought. Cloud shrugged. True, Sephiroth hadn't seemed all that bad to him, but he didn't undertand what had caused the man to just leave when he could have beaten them all single-handed, what with Elfé out cold and out of action. At times he though that maybe it had been him, but that was obsessed so he stopped that from the get go.

"I just remembered…" Hákon began, interrupting him. "I won't be here to help you with the learning how to drive next week and maybe you won't be her either. Depends whether your mom will give in. I mean, its not like you haven't done your share of risky things after we had to flee Cosmo Canyon. I'm not sure if I should tell you more, though. They will tell you after the meeting if you mom gives this a go." Cloud always looked vaguely irritated whenever Hákon did that to him. Sometimes not so vaguely: when an empty gun oil vial came flying to smack him upside the head, he barely flinched at all.

"Careful, find someone else to practise with." He rubbed his head. Cloud wasn't looking sympathetic at all, but he did look somewhat satisfied he hadn't after returning from Millettiae, despite the obvious complaint. Damn, they would have to try and get someone Cloud's age to join them, maybe some cute girl. Verhandi had said that Cloud had really liked his younger cousins Tolmas and Ellesiv. Maybe Marlene once she was a little older, if Barrett wouldn't wrap her in cotton wool for the rest of her life.

"What is it we have to do? Stop teasing," Cloud ordered. He looked as eager as ever to participate, blue eyes shining, and Hákon knew for a fact that once the boy would come of age they would start shining with Mako too.

"You know the big demonstration against Shin-Ra they are going to held in Midgar two weeks from now on? Our man in says that the Turks are planning on sending in provocateurs to make a riot so they can arrest all the dissident leaders. Legally! Hah!" They knew all about Shin-Ra's respect for their own laws. But it was good to get some of ex-Sin-Ras on their side. The former poachers made the best gamekeepers and other shit, he thought and then thought of Vincent. As much as he grumbled about the man, he knew how to do his job and even Verhandi had been Shin-Ra-funded student if not ever employee. Even Barrett had worked for hem once.

"So we are going to get to the provocateurs before they can start the riot. Some go through the people from Gaia's Children for Tomorrow in case they have infiltrated them, some try to keep en eye on all the Turks and that's not going to be a fun job. You could do something for our strategic binding Turk forces plan, codename Scarlet Woman. But that you've got to ask from Barrett." Barrett was so going to enjoy this one. Shin-Ra had destroyed Corel in retaliation of Avalanche taking the Mako reactor there, believing it was the people of Corel who helped them. In the chaos, Barrett and his friend Dyne had returned to the town and had been gunned down by Shin-Ra troops. Dyne had fallen off a cliff and Barrett had narrowly grabbed his hand. Almost saved, but then Scarlet had fired on them, shooting their hands and causing Barrett to drop Dyne to his doom.

In the aftermath, Barrett found Dyne's daughter Marlene and taken her in, but the years Marlene had spent with a foster mother hadn't cooled his ire down a notch. Any change to do Scarlet harm was a good change to the man.

* * *

Whether such thing as fate exists is debatable, but at times it is easy to believe so. Certain people will meet, no matter how you shuffle the deck, and some things while not the same can be seen as inevitable or predictable. Should have known, people will say later.

There were the Turks and there was a foster mother in Kalm, with a precious, valuable fostered. There was a demonstration, an eco-terrorist, a Soldier, an assassin with a bone to pick with him, the Soldier's wanted girlfriend and a Turk leader out to protect her. There was a woman in red and a man who saw red when her name was mentioned.

It was inevitable if not fate.

* * *

AN: About Aeris needing a fake pass to get off Midgar. I figured there had to be some kind of reason Elmyra didn't take her off Shin-Ra's front yard and this is my guess. Since they can't afford a chocobo or a vehicle of their own, their only options are walking and the public transport, which is under Shin-Ra's direct and strict anti-terrorist control. If Aeris was caught at the check no one would ever hear of her again.


	19. Chapter XIV: Bad, worse, worst

**Chapter XIV: Bad, worse, worst**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

Reeve Tuesti leaned back in his chair and looked down upon the city below the Shin-Ra Tower. Lights gleamed all over Midgar, but the city was still drowning in gentle darkness, the soft, clouded sky stretched out above. From far above it looked like an unreachable paradise, a starry sky come down on Planet, stars on ground so none was left to sky, but he knew better. Reeve had few real ties to Shin-Ra, beyond the idealistic belief that the organization should be changed from inside out for the change to be true, for violence only begot violence. Why should he feel loyalty to them? When had anyone of them ever actually listened to him? Being obedient was what had kept him in the game, but it hadn't earned him much success in his one-man crusade.

He had been the one to invent Mako reactors. When he had realised what he had invented, what effect they would have on the Planet, it was already too late. Even if he was to become their pawn wouldn't that be better, than simply fading away? For some time he had thought so.

Then he had been ordered to start the Juvalos project again and to help the Turks in kidnapping a little girl. Hadn't it been for the first Juvalos he might have done it. Might have told himself that the girl was better off with him than the only other option, with her father in Avalanche. But he had spied for Veld and he had witnessed young Cloud Strife's childhood in Avalanche. The fragile-looking boy hadn't been a child soldier, hadn't been injected with Mako despite his earnest pleas. He had been loved and kept safe the best his parents could. And if it in the end wasn't bulletproof safety, well, as much as it pained to admit it Reeve knew he couldn't offer better, Shin-Ra looming over his shoulder. He held no illusions, about what he was considering, or the consequences of his actions, no matter how things turned out.

Reeve liken the building best at nights, when it was quiet and dim, soothing to his nerves. The chair was soft and comfortable and he played with the thought of sleeping there, feeling suddenly too lazy to move a muscle, but he knew it wasn't that comfortable. His neck would be killing him come morning and so he forced himself to stand, took his keycard and left the room for the lift. If I do this, he thought, I've betrayed Shin-Ra, but if I don't I have betrayed myself, my mother... and anyone I've ever claimed the moral hight grond in front of. Truly, in his heart, Reeve knew he wasn't that important, that in the grand scheme of things, but he knew things, and if Vincent Valentine was truly as skilful and intelligent as he had been portrayed maybe he could save Marlene Wallace.

He could lose this war, for Shin-Ra. He could be the dissention, the traitor that ensures Avalanche's victory. It was a bad thing to consider, but now he only had bad and worse options. It was obvious to him by now, that his preferred method would work nowhere near fast enough to save the Planet and he was to fault from begin with. Certainly not fast enough to save Barrett Wallace from being blackmailed with his daughter's life.

The lift murmured soothingly. It agreed with him, at least, and he thought that he wasn't going to change his mind now. Gaia, he needed more sleep if he was having a conversation with a lift in his head.

* * *

Cloud was walking through a hallway. It wasn't a long hallway, but it still seemed to take forever before he was fearfully ushered into a small room off the main hall. Fearfully; the red-haired man with big glasses had looked at him like he had expected Cloud to bite his head off any minute. There was a chair, an examination table, the an array of plastic depressors and glass jars of swabs and cotton balls on a cart, along with a packet of disposable needles and it was white, white, white everywhere. The only thing that gave the room some colour was a metal-sheen Mako tank, thankfully empty.

"Have a seat, please," a doctor that wasn't Hojo said oddly meekly, making a beeline from the Mako tank to some cabinets on the wall and pulling out a ring of keys dangling in a red keychain from his pocket. Cloud hadn't seen inside them before, but his guess of what must be inside proved accurate. There were rack upon rack of syringes lined up in ranks, and the doctor picked one out, closing and locking the cabinet after. Cloud only had eyes for the syringe in his hand. The doctor was in a habit of biting his nails, Cloud noticed, and the liquid inside the syringe was glowing as green as he had remembered. But something was amiss. What was he doing here, wasn't this supposed to be someone else?

A gentle touch on his shoulder awakened Cloud from his slumber and he realized he had fallen asleep on the couch, a towel with dark reddish-brown seeping through around his head. He was looking into big, grey eyes of his mother, her white dressing gown similar to his really making her look pale like ghost.

"You can go wash it off now," mother told him quietly. Her eyes were red-rimmed and Cloud wondered why she would have stayed awake this late after waking at six the morning. Even her hair, usually as spiky and perky as his, was drooping slightly, probably with sweat.

"Don't you want to go to shower first?" he asked, but mother only shook her head.

"Not today; the hot water pipe is broken." Her smile was sympathetic, but also little amused and Cloud groaned. No way would he sleep with the dye in his head, mother would only order him to wash the pillowcase the next morning.

If he got any sleep that night anyway. This was getting ridiculous and frankly kind of scary. What had General Sephiroth dreamed right now?

The Founder's Day was approaching and Shin-Ra's entire PR department would throw themselves off the Tower rather than let such a day pass without taking advantage of it and malleable young minds and they had hammered their point home; it would also provide something other for Shin-Ra News to report than the Founder's Day Demonstration. Cute children and Soldiers acting like famous big brothers were much better publicity than riots. Hence they had organized a tour in Shin-Ra premises for poor children, including the Tower itself. For safety reasons, no Wutaiians would be allowed even though there were quite some disgraced women with bastard children living in the slums and while parents were highly encouraged to escort their children to the gates only children were actually allowed in, to avoid the risk of terrorist infiltration.

"At least this isn't really the Icicle area. Pity the poor people they have searching for us there," he grumbled and stood up. He was barefoot and the floor was chilly against his skin. Mother chuckled with mirth and rubber her eyes with one hand. Cloud yawned.

"I'm pretty sure that's why Vincent proposed the plan. Now, shoo! You have a mathematics test tomorrow so get to bed soon." Because no child of hers would go uneducated, even if it couldn't be official, Cloud mused as he walked towards the shower they shared with Jessie and the tech duo Biggs and Wedge. It wasn't like father couldn't make up credentials for him anyway and if he didn't learn to do it too he would be seriously disappointed with himself.

Cloud was the main operative of the diversion group working under Barrett Wallace. His mother had eventually relented, since he had done a lot during their diaspora anyway and what he would do could be explained away as a harmless prank should he get caught red handed, no pun intended.

Vincent Valentine would be the one with dangerous job anyway. Turks were all about unofficial deployment of unofficial people, unofficial stakes raised through unofficial maneuvers by said unofficial people. The whole Planet knew this and most asked how high when the Turks told them to jump, but that's the point: everyone except the most stubbornly naïve suspected, but no one could prove a thing. This was why Cloud didn't envy his father's part in their plan at all, even though his own wasn't a dream either. His dreams weren't a dream walk, either.

For a threat to be effective it didn't have to be real. As long as they could tie Turks into protecting Scarlet and investigating operation Scarlet Woman there would be less for the rest of Avalanche to manage. They were going to make it look like someone was trying to make a statement like when the Sons of Wutai painted the front steps of that civic guard whose name Cloud didn't remember with pig blood and then killed him the next day. In a way it would be a statement if one so obscure Cloud doubted anyone outside Avalanche would understand; Barrett had insisted that they use cow blood for Scarlet. And to maximise the supposed threat and Turk numbers countering it they had decided that blood on Scarlet's doorsteps wasn't going to cut it. They needed something that displayed great daring and skill, such as vandalizing Scarlet's posh, cream and gold coloured office in Shin-Ra building.

And so Cloud was now in a shower, dying his hair dark brown. The dark water pooled around his feet and was spiralled into the drain as his hair was revealed from under the brown dough, now dark-shining and the same set with his eyebrows that Donna, now proud mother of one, Rain, had dyed earlier that day. The name came from his old nickname; mother had called him Raincloud when he had been small every time he had cried for something, holding him in her arms and soothing him. Now the old endearment was shortened to Rain and if it sounded girly, well, that was the part of the plan that Cloud didn't like, not infiltrating Shin-Ra.

General Sephiroth, Colonel Zack Fair and Colonel Angeal Hewley all knew him by looks and while meeting with any of them wasn't scheduled into the trip it would have been tempting fate to go looking like he normally did. Brown hair and classes would help some, but pretending to be girl would make the disguise foolproof, at least in theory. No one would think to look for him in the girl's group and it would only be one afternoon. He could do it. Really. But why did he have to be so _aesthetically pleasantly looking_?

But that wasn't all he was thinking. In his last dream, had he been Sephiroth? Had Sephiroth been him?

If Sephiroth had just seen himself and felt the need to help that was okay, but what if that wasn't it. That could jeopardize his mission if the man had caught on what Cloud was supposed to do. But he would have to explain his dreams and why he hadn't told of them sooner. No way he could do that now. Something nasty like fear tasted in his mouth, but there was also some other feeling he didn't understand. It had been a while since he had last seen a dream and he was happy they hadn't ended, as stupid as it was. General sympathy towards the man was acceptable, no pun intended, but being happy about this involuntary fraternizing was not.

He didn't want to be arrested either; no one was lucky enough that General Sephiroth would let them escape twice. What could he do?

* * *

She set the obnoxious striped clothes on fire and gleefully watched them turning into ashes, warming her hands and caressing the hem of her expensive designer shirt. Maarit Monrepos liked lavish things. Money of course, cute clothing with bows and lace, tasteful accessories and new weapons. A man's muscles and smooth skin were good thing to feel too, especially if you weren't morally averse of sleeping with the cute target. But to want something wasn't the same as have, and she knew that well enough, but want still got under her skin; an itch that wouldn't let her concentrate before she scratched it, a pearl of sweat on her temple, an enticing laugh and quick finger to pilfer. She liked to be rich if just for a day for there was always another day to steal.

What Zack had is so much better than simple prettiness, though. You couldn't explain what made one piece of gold set with clear stones a tacky if valuable bauble to sell later and another something to steal for yourself despite the danger of it being recognized, to put around the neck and stare at it from the mirror until you saw beyond the flash of diamond and gleam of gold and into its cold, brilliant soul. What Zachary Fair had was quality. And she had the Monrepos eye for quality, the unerring instinct that told when something was the real deal, that this was shiny bauble and that was a piece of fine art.

Zack could lie down among sick chocobos and wouldn't get up the morning with bird influenza. It wasn't fair. It definitely was not fair.

All the worse she hadn't gotten even a kiss out of the Soldier when he had kicked her cute ass and sent her to wear prison clothes. There was a kind of innocence about Zack that even Shin-Ra couldn't take away from him. It really wasn't physical innocence as in virginity, not moral innocence because all Soldiers were killers many times over so that didn't make him any better than her, not with Shin-Ra's orders being the justification. It wasn't even emotional innocence, but an elusive sort of innocence that she hesitantly called innocence of the soul. The no influenza kind of innocence where nothing stuck, and she couldn't believe she had it bad enough to think about souls. Definitely time to off the bastard. She touched her new Electro-Mag Rod with painted nails.

And all the better to get to off the flower girl, of all clichés, on the side. Maybe if she took her time she could get him to leave her first to protect her. It amused her how the White Knight types always tried to protect their women, and occasionally men, this way. It never seemed to occur to anyone that telling the Big Bad Assassin you've broken up with the hostage is not going to get them released from their villainous clutches with an apology and a consolitary coffee with cookies. Maarit was more of an arsenic person anyway.

* * *

AN: Cloud doesn't know that Angeal is dead yet.

From The Grand List of Console Role Playing Game Clichés:

Place Transvestite Joke Here (Miss Cloud Rule) If the male lead is required to dress up like a girl for any reason, he will be regarded by everyone as much more attractive than any "real" girl. If the female lead cross-dresses as a man, she will be immediately recognized as who she is by everyone except the male lead and the main villain.

Who am I to argue with conventions? Heh.


	20. Interlude V: Scarlet

**Interlude V: Scarlet**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

She held a caramel-brown cat in her lap, absentmindedly stroking its feather soft fur. He wanted her like nothing else. Catching President Shin-Ra's eye was how Scarlet Abbiss got her big chance to prove what she was made of. The strange, metallic taste that might have been like blood filled her mouth, taste that had come since childhood whenever she wanted something so badly that her mind spun like a spinning top. Scarlet had never been given anything free so she had learned to take. Who is that, a little politician or another would ask those days, trying to sound regal, an attempt that had always amused her. Then they would be told by another little politician who she was, how she was so charming too, made them feel the apple of her eye and making her way up in the world, though rumour had it she did so on her back. Maybe she did, what of it? In Shin-Ra that was the way women made it.

So she told herself, but that was why she hated the female Soldiers so; holier than thou General Sephiroth never slept with a subordinate. He didn't believe breasts impaired anyone's brains, either. And he just refused to sleep with her, like she was under his standards somehow.

She begun as a little girl with pigtails, dirty coveralls and big dreams, interested in mechanics. She believed in the tooth fairy until she was twelve and cried when a mean older kid told her that only an idiot would still believe in Baldur bringing gifts at Solstice. She wanted to become the greatest engineer of all times and when people told her that a girl could never be such person because Shin-Ra had the best engineers and in Shin-Ra women never made it very far she only became that much more stubborn to prove them wrong. The first time she slept with somebody was when she needed better grades in university to get a citation for her résumé. She cried afterwards, but she got used to it.

Often you think at first that you could never do something, but when you are in a situation where you have to you find out its nothing after all. This had happened to Scarlet a week before Corel Reactor catastrophe and she still remembers how easy it was to shot at the two men there, her second time. She felt a brief burst of power, power over life and death and the effect came near to sexual pleasure. She had killed a few times since, but she didn't think much of it. She didn't want to feel that pleasure again, best to be indifferent.

And she got to invent weapons that exceeded anyone else's wildest imagination. It was beauty in machinery: nonequilibrium thermodynamics, weren't the very words like a poem? Entropy production, the equipartition of energy, systems driven out of equilibrium would often exhibit patterned behaviour such as fluctuations of phase transitions. Equilibrium was the most beautiful word she knew.

It's ironic considering the way she began her career, but out of all of Shin-Ra's department heads from the time she joined, Heidegger, Lazard Deuscerius, Palmer, Veld, Hojo and Reeve Tuesti, time has only treated Scarlet well.

Ironically, she was the one who made Veld fear for his daughter's life and she was the one who made Tuesti fear there was no time for his constructive plan of changing Shin-Ra from the inside. She did so with three innocent sentences: _Hasn't it been a long time since our first meeting. It was about Elfé, remember? Well, I now have Proud Clod I ready, we can test it on her._It was a casual mention, not one of those razor-sharp quips meant to do harm she sometimes used. Because of it, Veld actually realized that, yes, time was fleeing, he was getting rather old for a Turk, that one day he would die and not be there to deflect Shin-Ra for Elfé-Felicia and there was nothing he could do about it. Reeve realized that his little boy's dream of making the world a better place for all would most likely remain a dream for with his invention of Mako reactors he had already caused one war and would leave the Planet in much worse condition than it already was before they would give them up. She had no idea of any of this going through their mind during ordinary business lunch date.

One year later, when Scarlet met Tuesti in the Junon prototype hangar all again on the field of battle, Lazard already dead and buried, Palmer's Space Program dead and buried, Hojo obsessed to the point of forgetting to eat on a regular basis and mumbling to himself or alternatively to his laboratory mice, Heidegger was still disgraced for attempt to command the Turks in an operation in Junon few years ago when his over-reliance on the military had allowed Avalanche to take the city's airfield, and the Airships, Reeve was mostly ignored and Veld going AWOL with a new armed light airship of hers was the reason they were there.

Of them all, only Scarlet had managed her post without a single lapse. When she pointed this out to Reeve, hoping that it would distract a man she kind of liked from their inability to summon Veld from thin air, he just gave him one of those unreadable looks of his. Then, with a sad, spiteful little smile, he spoke. You won, he said. Don't rub it in.

She had no idea why she briefly felt like she hadn't.

''When I was young it seemed that life was so wonderful,  
A miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical.  
And all the birds in the trees, they'd be singing so happily  
Oh joyfully, oh, playfully watching me.  
But then they sent me away to teach me how to be sensible,  
Logical, oh responsible, practical.  
And then they showed me a world where I could be so dependable,  
Oh, clinical, intellectual, cynical.

* * *

AN: The lyrics are from Logical Song by Supertramp. I don't own.


	21. Chapter XV: A child's play

**Chapter XV****: A child's play**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

What is it like to not know why you are doing something? That experience is unique for everyone and most people experience it at least once. Not in the sense that they are not thinking what they are doing, but that they try and try and still can make no sense of their motives.

Cloud was reading a book Jessie had handed over to him. She had been in Millettiae to sell soap, one of their new sources of income, and come back with a crate of books, explaining that the owner of the bookshop had suffered pipe saxifrage and had offered the spoiled but still readable books one gil a crate. Among the books had been one written by Bugenhagen, which had been the reason Cloud had claimed it. It was a rather obscure text of what archaeologists had found out of the Cetra culture and religion by translating their hieroglyphs of the Ancient City's temple walls.

The Tree of Life, manifestation of Gaia's body, consisted of ten Sephiroths, the ten attributes that Gaia created through which she can manifest not only in the physical but the metaphysical universe, ten being the number of divine perfection. At their fundamental level, the ten Sephiroths were a step-by-step process illuminating the Divine plan as it unfolds itself within Gaia's sacred body. It was a completely abstract notion, an unrelated little tidbit. Cloud read it over and over again, without any idea why he did so.

Except he did. He wondered who had named General Sephiroth and why the man went by no surname. That was the part he didn't understand. For Cloud Strife not understanding his motives was an old book with blotchy pages and one night's worth of lost sleep.

* * *

Cloud was technically two years too old for the tour, President Shin-Ra or maybe Tseng having decided that thirteen was still a cute child, but fourteen was a teenager and thus a possible angsty terrorist. They had played every trick in the book to make him look younger, beginning with pigtails, going through careful make-up job to soften his features, using soft woolen gloves to cover his hands which looked much too hard for a young girl and ending with a backpack shaped like a bunny rabbit, a pink one much to Cloud's disgust. He had made his father promise to confiscate and destroy all evidence Hákon and Sears collected of Lil' Rain, namely the pictures.

The so-called Founder's Day Demonstration was actually to be held two day after the Founder's Day due to Shin-Ra not giving permission for public holidays, and there were cameras everywhere to catch cute children and the program would come out at the same time the demonstration would take place.

Children or no, Cloud mused wryly, Shin-Ra wasn't taking chances. Just inside the gate, in front of which parents in cheap, mass produced clothes waited for the next tour group and trying to curb the enthusiasm of their children, was the first attraction; a group of detection dogs with their blue-clad handlers. Dark brown, long rough-coated, sturdy Northern Shepherd dogs with the black mask and broad chest, firm-looking Mideel Pincers with short hair and cropped ears and a few attractive-looking Highlands Foxhouds with wavy golden-tawny coat and elegant build, all bearing the hugging and tugging they were subjected to with good grace and dignity. It looked very idyllic.

It also looked like they were there as a security measure to his eyes.

"I think they are here to detect any bombs should someone be low enough to send a child in with one," Donna whispered, a frown on her face. They were in the line, but she had knelt down pretending to retie his shoelaces, her face down, and the noise was very concealing.

"What I worry about is whether they are also trained to smell blood," Cloud whispered back. Or rather, whether they were trained to react to the smell. The weight of the one litre plastic bottle on his backpack suddenly felt heavier, dragging his shoulders back until it must have seemed like he was imitating the guards, standing in attention.

"Do you think we should call this off?" Donna asked and stood up again, lifting her hand to ruffle his hair until she remembered it was on pigtails now and partially covered by a faded red beret. He shook his head. This was important and while being caught with a bottle of cow blood could be considered suspicious it wasn't an illegal substance.

Besides, while it was something he would never have admitted, he didn't really expect to get out from there without getting caught. Those accursed shared dreams had probably seen to that and it wasn't like he could have told anyone of those now. Still, in a way the mission would ne accomplished all he same; his arrest and the subsequent rescue by father, not to mention what just might happen to Hojo should the cells be conveniently near the laboratories, would see to it that the Turks were distracted indeed. Maybe he could be Fabales number two. And, while he knew it was probably a sign of temporary insanity and a reason to go to mother and ask for happy blue pills the thought of Sephiroth catching him in some hallway, and no way would the Silver General let someone else catch his dream nemesis, and collecting him be the back of his shirt left him with a squirming feeling that wasn't entirely unpleasant. Shiva bless, he really needed those pills if he was in any way, kind or shape happy about the prospect of being caught in a drag.

Then the anticipated moment came; their names and contact address were written down, Donna was gently but firmly led to the side and Rain was ushered with other children through the gate to the waiting dogs. Cloud smiled widely ran with the rest of them to the dogs and dropped to his knees in front of one golden Foxhound to hug and pat it like everyone else and peeked under it.

"What's her name," he asked from the soldier holding the leash of the dog, looking bored out of his mind.

"She's Sváva," the soldier gave him the name of one of Odin's Valkyries. Sváva looked nowhere near as frightening as her namesake; Cloud was sweating when she sniffed discreetly his bunny backpack, knowing the odor of blood and the chemical cocktail, sodium citrate, phosphate, dextrose, and adenine to keep the blood from clotting and preserve it, had to be obvious. But Sváva wasn't barking even if her curly tail was twitching uncertainly and Cloud whispered endearments to her ears but keeping his hands now to himself. Poor dog had to be sick of squealing, clinging children by now. The warmth of sun was clinging to his skin pleasantly, if not for the odd smell of city Cloud couldn't indentify further and the hard concrete under his knees he could have closed his eyes and pretended to be back in Cosmo Canyon. He wondered whet Piekna was doing now.

"Now we will continue our tour," the Soldier Third Class leading them ordered with a loud, clear voice. It took the man, Jessod, some time to separate the children from the dogs. Cloud was neither first nor the last to go and soon they walked past a parade field where Shin-Ra regulars were having an exhibition drill. The men and women were bright blue like the sky and they marched to the beat of the cadence exact like glockenspiel. Cloud had to admit it looked good.

"Hey, who are you," a bright voice asked from behind him and Cloud turned his head to look at red-haired girl in old, green coat. She looked like she could be even nine years old.

"I'm Rain," he introduced his alter ego and the girl grabbed his hand.

"I'm Netza, nice to meet you!" she told her name in return and proceeded to drag Cloud with her, leaving him to cringe inwardly. If something happened he didn't want anyone to think this little girl had anything to do with him.

But no one kept an eye for him and he was sure that he would have noticed. He walked like in a dream, unhindered through the Shin-Ra compound from the regular and Soldier barracks to the high tower standing over Midgar, grey like and old giant of tales, wearing glass jewellery. The cheerful chorus of steps and laughter echoed in the tower and the gaggle of children, in all chocobo colors, walked and ran through it, not really listening to the poor Soldier who was beginning to look really harassed. He was swiping sweat from his temple with the back of his hand and and quickly grabbed a small hand that had been about to push a doorchime. It seemed so unreal, like finding a fire burning underwater, and Cloud had to deliver himself a firm kick in his mind. He was there to work, not to enjoy himself. Still no sight of Sephiroth and he was slowly beginning to believe there wouldn't be. He was at the heart of the enemy, free and free to go and it was a heady feeling. Compared to this, pilfering Fuhito's hard drive from his laptop in his office had been nothing, less than nothing!

Finally after an hour they reached the highest level and Cloud gave Netza a calculating look. He didn't want to get her into trouble, but there he was, doing just so. The headiness gave first way to an uncomfortable churning at his stomach and then cool resolution. He needed help to separate himself from the group and the little ball of energy could help him. It wasn't like she was going to help him break into anywhere. He bent so his lips were on the same level with Netza's ear.

"Isn't it cool here. I bet this would be the best place to play hide-and-seek ever," he whispered to her. Her eyes lit up like he had just given her the best birthday gift ever.

"But I don't think our Soldier is going to let us wander anywhere alone," he continued and Netza's eyes went immediately a little bit dimmer. Cloud felt briefly like he had just kicked a puppy. Netza was so innocent.

"Do you think if we asked real prettily," she asked him, hesitant. Cloud shook his head, feeling like a Turk. In a way he was one, he realized, a nicer, less violent version of Shin-Ra's spies. Apple. tree, he mused and felt immediately better thinking about it like that. Resembling his father was nothing to be ashamed of.

"No, they wouldn't. Adults never have a sense of humor. But maybe if we all just ran into different directions at the same time. The Soldier could come seek us." It was pretty heavy handed, but he didn't have much time and Netza was young enough to take his prompting at face value. True enough, she was soon going through their group, giggling and whispering. Few older children were shaking their heads and one boy in blue-green shirt was looking at the back of the Soldier hesitantly, but to Cloud's relief he didn't say anything either.

"Up there is a landing pad for President Shin-Ra's private helicopter," the Soldier announced, pointing at stainless steel stairs leading to a heavy metal door. Cloud could feel how the mood of the children shifted, the thought of seeing a real helicopter beginning to win over the inborn sense of mischief.

"Now!" his voice was low, but the intensity bore authority. Netza ran first to the opposite direction and a herd of children ran after her, laughing with innocent glee. Cloud could tell the exact moment the Soldier lunged after them and flattened himself to the wall, letting him pass him by.

Safely ignored for the moment, he turned left to the smaller hallway that led to Scarlet Abbiss' and Heidegger's offices, recalling the map he had been shown. Second door on the left side, there was a big, mahogany door, its natural, wooden shine truly eye-catching in a place of steel and glass and hard fluorescent lights. The lock, however, was very much modern and Cloud took a small hand mirror and the keycard his father had made from his pocket, hoping it was good enough and hoping that Scarlet wasn't inside. It was unlikely, with the big project in Junon, but it was still possible that she had returned for the Founder's Day, hordes of children non-withstanding. A quiet whirr and the door opened obediently. Cloud took half a step to inside and thrust out his left hand, holding the mirror. They had trained this until Cloud had really begun to hate the poor object and now he deftly took the hat from his head and threw it through the air. It landed on the security camera in the corner and twirled a little, but didn't fall. There was no one inside.

Cloud let the door shut and took his backpack to his hand, opened the zipper under a happy, pink face and took a bottle full of deep, dark liquid. He shook the bottle to see the blood ripple and swirl, almost hypnotic. Time to make a statement, then. He still couldn't believe he was lucky enough for the odd dream exchange to have been just on the spot, no plans revealed.

He took a long stick from the bunny pack, dipped it into the blood careful to not get any on his clothes and begun writing on Scarlet's cream and golden-white wallpapers. He had to dip it six times until there read on bold, dripping letters: REPENT SINNER. Then he gathered his hem to his hand to keep it out of the way and poured the rest of the blood to the mousy carpet. No way were they ever getting that stain out of it.

Time to leave and allow himself be collected.

* * *

What is it like to not understand what you are? Aeris knew she was a Cetra the way she knew her hair was brown, but why did that make her so valuable? Gaia whispered to her and filled his dreams with bold, reckless song, like She hadn't sung for a long, long time, but as much as Aeris loved her flowers that bloomed out of season wher it never was the right season and her dream fields of white lilies and bright sunflowers she didn't think that would benefit Shin-Ra any.

_Desire/broken/rabid/C__ALAMITY,_Gaia whispered to her. _Virus/cancer/predator/hunger. Dreams of death/dreams of fire/frost/famine. _

Wall Market wasn't anything like it had been just the day before when she had been selling her tiger lilies there. Now it had been transformed to a carnival, rickety stands thrown up in every available space offering meats pies with spicy sauce, hot drinks, pink and white cotton candy and blazed almonds, games and fortune telling in dim tents smelling of cheap incense and moth balls. Later that evening Zack would come and treat her dinner, but now Aeris was working; she always sold easily thrice the usual amount of flowers at Founders's Day, roses of deep red and pink, gladiolus, primroses and delicate violets. The sheer collective joy of life that bubbled all around her, so rare in Midgar, made her head feel light. But it didn't last.

_Danger,_Gaia filled her ears with hasty, warning chords. _Predator/chase/grudge. _And Aeris knew that being a Cetra, the Cetra, had caught up with her again as she turned to flee. _Negative. Specific._

* * *

There's this future Zack thinks about where they're both old and live in Gongaga or some other nice, warm, lush green place for Aeris, he has managed to teach Sephiroth to laugh at stupid things, he would be married to Aeris and Sephiroth to someone, because there had to be someone capable of catching the man's eye. All they do is sit at a bar, complain about the cigar smoke and Soldier sense of smell, reminisce about the wars they fought and the scars they gained and torture the wet-behind-their-ears youngster with their stories until Aeris and the mystery lady, or man, would come to fetch them. They would have children of course and grandchildren too.

But he would start small and teach his friend to be comfortable with children if it killed them both. All Sephiroth knew of children amounted to having been one once and knowing how the man had been raised that didn't say much. Gast Faremis had apparently been relatively benevolent, but after he had died as far as the scientists were concerned being child meant that Sephiroth could be trained more swiftly and efficiently than adults, at the peak of his capacity to learn. Sephiroth had never even seen never even seen another child until he got sent out to burn their towns down around them in Wutai. At first he had treated them like adults and killed without mercy because he had always been treated like that; a small sized adult. He had learned otherwise rather quickly, even his own men flinching away from him for his displays of ruthlessness, but he still acted like children shouldn't be allowed near him and froze completely, that painfully common conviction of not-human in his eyes.

Zack couldn't deny that the image of a small body hitting the ground and Masamune dipped in red, Sephiroth's eyes unmoved and unrepentant, had cost him several nighs' worth of sleep when he had first been told, but it wasn't like there hadn't been repenting after the war. So he ignored the image and the nausea he had felt. He had had a front seat and he didn't like to see the man beating himself so.

But Sephiroth would learn that it hadn't been his fault Hel damn, that children did fear him considerably less than adults in general and he had seen just the right little gal to do the teaching, the cutest little girl with pigtails, round glasses and a pink bunny rabbit backpack. Who could resist her awesomeness?

"Hi there, Jessod! Wait a little, man!" he shouted cheerily and caught up with the man who was herding the children trusted in his care, looking like he wished he was anywhere else, even if it involved a nasty, smelly swamp full of mosquitoes and Midgar Zoloms.

"I'll borrow one of yours if you don't mind. Don't worry, tell the parents that I'll return her personally." The he knelt so that his face was at the same level with the girl's. She looked immediately down, looking so embarrassed and shy, but peeked at him under her lashes.

"I'm Zack Fair, Soldier First Class. Who are you, princess?" he asked her. She was chewing her lower lip.

"Rain Lockhart. It's nice to meet you." Her voice was small, but clear like a bell. Then she lifted her face and it was like a fluffy little kitten had suddenly transformed into a tiger cub, still cute, but also fierce. Behind the glasses those celestial blue eyes reminded him someone, but he wasn't sure who. Forsythia Clover had blue eyes, maybe it was her. The Soldier was pretty slim too just like this girl and brunette to boot. He felt kind of bad for the other kids for singling her out in front of them, but inflicting them all on Sephiroth at the same time would be little too much. He could picture the man freezing like moving a muscle would send the fragile little beings, for that was how he saw them, running screaming.

"Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to cheer up an irate General with me." The girl squeaked.


	22. Chapter XVI: Counterespionage

**C****hapter XVI: Counterespionage**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

Agdta Roses was peeling an orange. She was trying a trick she had read of from Modern Housewives: how to clean oven smell after cooking something smelly. She made a few large peels and put them on a baking tray and into the oven to bake for about ten minutes to remove the smell of garlic and grease. If it worked, she thought, it would ease the cleaning a lot. Like the tricks there had been for removing crayola stains from painted interior walls; even though the women on the pictures looked like they had never cleaned their own house in their life, with their long, painted nails and pastel-colored clothes, the writer certainly had.

That was when she heard knocking from the back door, a hasty, oddly moth scraping and metallic sound. She put the orange and the knife away, quickly wiped the sticky, orange trickle off her hands and went to the door. Small Marlene was playing with one of her old dolls in the living room, one made of clothe. The porcelain dolls with painted faces and real hair were still too fragile for her small, eager hands. Agdta opened the door, but saw no one then she heard a small cough and looked down.

"Good day," a cat politely said politely to her.

It was a huge cat, one with wine red fur and black ears and its voice was a pleasant bariton. Agdta closed her eyes, rubbed them and opened them again. The cat had gone nowhere; it was pacing at her feet.

"How?" she managed to ask weakly.

"No time for long explanations," the cat told her, "you are in trouble. I am caracal espionage robot Juvalos II and I bring you a message. Shin-Ra has found out that you are hiding Avalanche leader Barrett Wallace's daughter Marlene here and the Turks are on the way as we speak. Grab your purse and clean underwear and follow me; there is no time to waste." Agdta was left speechless, staring the robotic feline. It was fairly twitching with impatience, quite a feat from artificial intelligence.

Of course she had known that she would be in danger when she had agree to take Marlene in her care, but Corel survivors had to stick together, despite of what some people thought, and she hold a good deal of respect for Barrett who had taken the responsibility of his friend's daughter even if he couldn't raise her. She had just never really thought this day would come.

"How do I know you are telling the truth?" she asked and noticed her voice was shaking. It angered her unreasonably.

"Shin-Ra doesn't have to resort to tricks like these to nab one child and housewife from Kalm. Please hurry." The robot cat was pleading with her and Agdta turned wordlessly and run to Marlene, not caring the door was left open. Her house wasn't much compared to the old one she had inherited from her grandparents, two rooms and a kitchen and bathroom, but now when she looked at it, the high rooms, small windows and the old furniture with ornate legs a kindly neighbor had given to her from "taking space and collecting dust in her attic" it felt like she was running from her house in Old Corel all over again. Damned Shin-Ra for taking everything from her again, damned to Hel's halls twice over! She knelt in front of the girl trusted in her care, caressing her cheek hastily. She hoped she wasn't crying, but her eyes felt so hot she feared the worst. She shouldn't scare Marlene so she swallowed them the best she could.

"We are going on adventure, Marlene. Isn't that going to be fun?" she whispered. Marlene clapped her chubby hands.

"Agda! Adventure!" she cheered and Agdta felt her heart break. She stood up and took the two porcelain dolls from a shelf, just like she had three years ago. They were going with her again. She took three long paces through the room to the bedroom, grabbed some clothing from the closet, went to kitchen to take white bread and a jar of jam, easily on the counter, thrust that all to her shopping bag laying around on the chair, one made of silvery grey and green swathes of clothe and then took Marlene into her arms despite the girl's protests. She was already little too heavy to carry for long and old enough to insist walking on her own, but her legs were still too short and tired too easily and they were on the run. Kalm had never looked more beautiful with its colorful, ornate houses like the gingerbread houses her family used to make for Solstice and small kitchen gardens than now when she had to leave it. Surprised, she realized that it had been worlds more beautiful than Old Corel in its prime.

"Where are we going to go?" Agdta asked from the cat, Juvalos II, desperately. Where could they go so Shin-Ra couldn't find them, so quickly that the Tuks wouldn't catch them? Odin Allfather, she had to trust their lives with a mechanic cat!

"There is a helicopter in the willow mead just out of town. I don't know where Avalanche's new headquarters are, but Elfé should know and her I can find." Juvalos answered, twitching his tail and turning to lead her. People on the streets were giving them questioning looks, but Agdta ignored them.

"Isn't she the leader of Avalanche?" she demanded. Maybe this was a trap after all. Still she walked on, for there wasn't any other option than trust now. It is complicated, the cat answered and as she ran away from her old life in her frilly, embarrassing apron, without even a hat or a handkerchief on her, she thought that had to be the understatement of the year.

As numb as she was, she could still be surprised when she saw the face of the man in the helicopter.

* * *

The Founder's Day was like any day to General Sephiroth; while the business side of Shin-Ra ground to a near-halt at public holidays, the military side knew no such luxury. There were always missions in various stages of completion and his soldiers, or Soldiers, out in the field and the normal security to be overseen in addition to the special measures made for hordes of children of unknown quantity. Not to mention the normal meetings he'd had to endure since after Lazard's death, and how he rued that day, his position had been equal to a department head's in addition to the military power. With any luck, tonight's meeting would be over with quickly. Somehow the midsummer never generated a nightmarish amount of paperwork though he couldn't really see how the temperature and the growing season could affect the affairs of hostile forces.

At least he had a reason to stay in his office. Zack Fair had attempted to drag him out in the morning, but he wasn't comfortable around children and couldn't imagine any parent comfortable to allow theirs near him.

"Yes?" Concentrating in his reports, he gave an absent answer to the knock on his office door. It opened with a whirr and two sets of steps came through. The first one he recognized, but the second made him lift his gaze from the papers, too light to belong to an adult and hesitating.

Behind Zack, there was a girl. A slightly panicked-looking girl with dark brown pigtails, round glasses and downcast blue eyes. Her mouth was set very determinedly and Sephiroth didn't sigh, didn't want to alarm the child, but he had to suppress the urge. Zack knew how intimidating he was to the normal adults, let alone children. He opened his mouth…

"Hi there, Mister General Sephiroth, sir! I bring a guest." But Zack beat him to it, cheerful as ever. The man waved with his hand and the girl lift her face, now looking even more determined.

"I am Rain Lockhart, sir. It's nice to meet you," she said and her soft, deep voice reminded him of someone, but his irreverent aide didn't give him the time to figure out whom, dragging the unresisting girl to his desk and bodily lifting her to sit on it, sending his papers to disarray.

There was a hint of odd smell clinging to her like a coat, like a faded memory. It reminded him of blood, but it wasn't human at all and there was a chemical edge to it, sharp and tingling his sinuses. When he tried to get a better sense of it he couldn't. Maybe it was some new cleaner, he thought. It didn't bear the slightest resemblance to the girl's smell and she didn't appear injured in any way. Zack didn't seem to notice a thing either and while his senses weren't equal to Sephiroth's they were still very good.

"Excuse me, but who named you?" she asked a complete non-sequitur. It was so Zack-like question Sephiroth felt briefly startled. Might she actually be a relative of his? No, then Zack would have introduced her as his niece or second cousin or whatever she might have been

"I am not aware of it. Why." His voice was sharp, his interrogation voice, and she tensed up, her breaths quick and swallow. He felt uncomfortable admitting lack of such normal information, but he didn't want to explain how he thought it might have been Hojo and why. Still, he should have been more mindful for she was young and surely intimidated.

"It's just, Sephiroths are the ten attributes that Gaia created she can manifest the physical and the metaphysical universe through with, ten is the number of divine perfection," she explained quickly, like she thought he might order her to be quiet. Sephiroth had to change his assessment of his namer; he hadn't thought Hojo capable of such philosophy even if the megalomania was typical to him.

"I didn't know that," he admitted. He was beginning to think this might make an interesting conversation after all as long as he made no threatening moves, but at this point his aide interrupted them.

"This is the mission objective; rescue the General from the evil paperwork!" Zack announced with aplomb and Sephiroth had to suppress another sigh. Rain, however, gave a small, crooked smile older than she was and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Much to his surprise the panic was suddenly gone, replaced by serenity. Her posture seemed to relax as he watched her, tension bled out and the small fists unfurled. Not so small, he corrected himself then. Compared to him she was small, but she had to be rather tall for her age.

"I really don't think he would appreciate if I set it all on fire," she said. No. He wouldn't appreciate it at all. He gave Zack a pointed look, but the man ignored it.

"But the mission mandate is to search and destroy," he whined. Sephiroth frowned, but it wasn't for his aide and his idiotic antics for once. He could hear steps approaching and he recognized the cadence of them.

"Enter," he called sharply before the door chimed and with much huffing and more stomping of feet than he would have thought possible Heidegger entered his office. Rain promptly dropped off his desk.

"And what's this? Am I interrupting something important?" Heidegger asked, his all too sharp eyes peering at Zack with a cold speculation and ignoring Rain entirely. Then the man gave his trademark belly laugh that made Sephiroth's fingers itch and sat down in a chair in front of his desk, his sheer mass making the piece of furniture creak. The man had finally recovered his assertiveness after the Deepground revelation, which Sephiroth suspected was partly because Angeal was dead and disgraced just like Genesis, and the man didn't hesitate to show it. Especially since Azul the Cerulean, the first and only recruit the Tsviets had gotten since their exposure, had successfully completed a mission in southern Wutai mangrove forests, destroying a band of rebels. It was almost enough to make the President forget how the leader of the subgroup, Weiss the Immaculate, was like a rabid dog in a decaying leash, only the fear of Sephiroth keeping him from lashing out at everything that moved.

"Not really," Rain answered seriously, "but what about that group that searched for you? Remember them, Zack? They wanted to get photographed with you." It was neither her face nor her voice that alerted Sephiroth, but the way Zack's eyes twinkled with mischief and relief. She was lying through her teeth, but since it was her face Heidegger automatically looked at as she spoke, not Zack's, he had no idea. The man puffed out with pride like a chocobo displaying its crest, his massive chest making his uniform top strain.

"Now were they? I mustn't let little kids get disappointed. Where did they go?" Zack gave him the directions and with another rumbling laugh Heidegger walked right out of his office, and despite the common sense Sephiroth couldn't bring himself to protest. The man would only come back later in much worse mood, but the girl was just trying to help, just like his aide had no doubt instructed. Once the door was shut again, it was Zack's turn to laugh. He ruffled the girl's hair with easy camaraderie.

"That was slick, princess. You surprised me." She smiled blithely and turned towards Sephiroth, stood in attention and saluted flawlessly. He had seen new recruits and cocksure Soldiers with much worse form than hers.

"The back-up is making a strategic retreat and recommends the same for the General. Play hooky, Mister General, sir! Live a little!" Then she walked quickly around the desk, hugged him the best she could while he was still sitting down and turned firmly around, and he ceased breathing, unaware where he should keep his hands, he didn't want to make the little creature to feel constricted. A sensory memory attacked him mercilessly, the last time a human this small had been this close to him had been that last time in Wutai just before Angeal had dragged him to the side and explained him in no unclear terms just why he was referred as the Demon of Wutai, he could feel the damp heat and the dead man's hand closed around his arm, but she was fearlessly marching out of his office, winking at the door and leaving him stare after her with shock. She had touched him. He could hear her laughing in the corridor. She had lied for him and hugged him. Sephiroth looked helplessly at Zack, trying to understand. His cultural incompetence regarding his own culture tended to embarrass him, but at least the First could be trusted to give him answers.

"Gotta go now, I promised I would return her to her parents. But she had a point; make an escape while you still can." Sephiroth was left staring at the closed door, trying to sort out his thoughts.

* * *

Cloud felt lightheaded and he thought that being drunk had to felt like this, reckless and loose-jointed. It had been a test; he had wanted to know if they were just toying with him like a cat would with a mouse, though it hadn't felt like either man's style to him, or if it was all just a big coincidence that out of every child there Zack had picked him. And they had let her go free, laughing like a madman, and now Zack was walking with him, praising him and it was all just so hilarious.

When Zack had come for him he had thought the Soldier First Class had just wanted to separate him from the real children without fight and he wasn't going to mess that up. But the arrest he had kept expecting just didn't come and the General had looked completely baffled to see him, or rather her, there. And so he had gambled and gotten a hug out of it.

Only then did he realize that he had actually hugged the man. He stopped on his tracks, stumbling so Zack Fair had to catch him to keep him from falling, and his arms were tingling. He asked and Cloud told him that his foot had gotten caught to the fabric of the carpet, but his mind was miles away from the explanation. Again he walked like in a dream and at the gate of Shin-Ra compound Zack handed him to Donna who made small talk, Zack praising Rain to Valhalla and back, but Cloud was sure she had been beside herself with worry. He was beside himself with worry too, but for much different reason. What in Helheim had he been thinking and why wouldn't his arms just stop that annoying tingling?

And then he decided it didn't matter. Just how many people got to fool the almighty Shin-Ra Electric Power Company like this, drags involved or not? Operation Scarlet Woman: completed.


	23. Chapter XVII: Turks interrupted

**Chapter XVII: Turks interrupted**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

Reno would have wondered about Hojo's motives except that he knew the Shin-Ra Head Scientist was neither chivalrous nor sporting and any superweapon he created would be used as soon and often as possible. Still, there had to be something odd going on for him to move this pet project to the icy wastelands known as the Icicle Area. Nothing was there, except, according to the rumours, the Avalanche. Maybe the creep just wanted more test subjects.

Out of all of the Turks' current elites serving under Tseng, Reno could be considered the strangest. Rude was the coolest, Elena the most beautiful and Cissnei the most... well, herself, but Reno was still the strangest. It was because he wasn't the best at anything. He was less than Rude at sharpshooting, nowhere near as good as Elena was at seducing and completely inferior to Cissnei in martial arts. Where he shined, however, is that he was a true jack of all trades and the one who always found a way when there was will, and the best that the Turks had had to offer since the days when Vincent Valentine was still among their ranks. He was the second best at everything, so where Rude outdid him at sharpshooting, he simply beat the crap out of his opponents at close range and he could always get that close, no exceptions. Where Elena was sent to charm her opponents much to her displeasure, he overwhelmed them with his attitude and threatened to set their heads on fire later if needed.

And whenever Cissnei bragged with her superiority of hand to hand fighting, Reno simply resorted to dirty tricks and threatened to make known an incident involving a feather duster and pair of leather boots, a pink thong and a bullwhip. Cissnei usually surrendered the topic on the spot, and no one really wanted to know why.

But Tseng could still order him around and Reno was in Firefrost One now, looking at the things he had been ordered to protect while it was transported from Midgar to there. Naked, it looked very much female, but only vaguely human. Its body was covered by smooth skin with matte sheen, all vibrant colours of violet and purple lending what might have been an unearthly beautiful look if not for its menacing presence, that despite it just floating there as a complete vegetable. The Thing in the tank was like a bruise in the room, he thought petulantly, and about as pleasant. Also, playing a babysitter to it was keeping him from Midgar and there were things happening. Important things, like the debate on what should be done about Veld making his disappearing act and Vincent Valentine returning after all these years, not having aged a day.

Stupid or naïve people didn't make it in Turks. There was something big going on that Hojo had been able to keep secret even from the Turks and Tseng didn't like that any, the ice cold bastard that he was. Vincent Valentine turning out without having aged was most likely Hojo-related, which would then have to apply to his disappearance too. Veld deserting was probably Vincent-related; they had been partners once and if the cold man with nerves like sharp glass was an active enemy now wasn't that going to be fun? Somebody was messing with the Turks and getting away with it and there he was, looking after an unintelligent lump of purple flesh created by that someone.

"Could have at least sent me somewhere important. You are useless," he grumbled and rapped the container with his knuckles. The milky white eyes of the creature were half-lidded, but there was no expression there.

* * *

The flamelion twitched his tail, the fire sending warm, red light and soft shadows dancing on the bare concrete walls. They were hiding in a warehouse that had been sold to a new company that still didn't have the necessary infrastructure in the city to store anything there. It was sparse, but at least it was clean and had enough space for them all. When the radio fell silent Vincent looked at it with a combination of surprise and bemusement, before turning to look at Donna, who returned the look and then shrugged slightly.

"That sounded odd from the start," she stated, before opening her book again and snuggling down in the thick dark red and orange fur. Much to Vincent's surprise Red XIII hadn't only turned out appreciating of casual touch, but actually needing of it. There had been a time when he had to suppress a shudder even when Verhandi touched him suddenly, but being of different species probably caused greater reliance on physical reassurance than the humans had. He didn't claim to be apt at interspecies interaction. Donna was of course more than happy to comply.

Cloud hadn't been the only one sneaking inside Shin-Ra Tower yesterday. Vincent had had two reasons; the first one was that his son wasn't experienced enough to undertake so risky an infiltration without back-up. He hadn't haunted Cloud's footsteps, the boy having to learn to watch out for himself, but had he been discovered Vincent would have been there to break him out. The second reason had been Hojo. So close to the man that had stolen his love and humanity, Lucrecia's life and son he hadn't been able to resist the pull down to the labs. Only a fool leaves an enemy behind them alive, his Turk side stated, and Chaos whispered how he should see _just how many organs of his can be cut out of and analyzed in front of him with the help of an aduquate life support system before he loses consciousness, as it would only be a just end to his life and it wouldn't be fair to deny him this one last observation in the field of scientific experimentation seeing how fond of those the man is_. If possible Chaos detested Hojo even more than Vincent and his anger was so foreign he had difficulty recognizing the feeling if there were no words to spell it out. The Summon held the professor ultimately responsible of him being chained within a defective form that had been in the process of dying even before it had been born, as he put it, and now it only would linger that much longer, lengthening his torture, despite Lucrecia being the one to do the summoning.

That might have been because she wasn't there to blame anymore. However Chaos' mind worked, Vincent was grateful for this.

Hojo, they had discovered much to his disappointment, hadn't been in the Midgar labs for weeks, but he had discovered a sturdy cage with a lion-like animal with thick dark orange fur with a thin brown mane extending partway down his back. In Cosmo Canyon Vincent had made acquaintance with the tribe of flamelions whom he had found polite and proud creatures and seeing Red lying there, eyes devoid of all hope of escape, had somehow angered him even more than he had previously been. He had escaped with the thin creature and only outside the compound he had spoken the first time, spoken with hesitant, reluctant hope, probably terrified of it turning out to be some cruel trick or mistake or plain Mako-induced hallucinations.

Vincent frowned slightly as his PHS vibrated silently and he picked it to answer it.

"Hello?" he asked. He never said his name aloud in a call. There was no saying who might overhear.

"Hi Vincent," said Ciddi's voice breezily, "I have got a question for you. Identification kind of one. Are you busy?" So much for anonymity. There was the noise of traffic on the background, it sounded like the roar of a commercial airship. The docks were not where the man was supposed to be now.

"Not just now," he told the man in charge of keeping an eye on the would-be-demonstrators. He would be busy the next day, but now he had free time. Operation Scarlet Woman and the disappearance of one of Hojo's test subjects so close to the demonstration day had successfully reduced the number of Turks in Operation Provocateur drastically and he could pick out those left easily enough when the time came to march.

"We were listening to a play on the radio, but it seems to have ended." Red's voice was low and rumbling, but still quite civilised. It seemed like he hadn't learned of PHP conversation being a private affair, but then again Hojo's labs left the poor, unfortunate souls captured there with no privacy at all. There was a bemused silence on the other end of the conversation and Vincent realised that Ciddi wouldn't have recognized Red's voice, but before he could reassure the man he was already interrupted.

"Sorry, you were doing what?" Ciddi's voice was full of incredulity and Vincent could picture his expression with little trouble, the way his pale grey eyes would bulge.

"Listening to a play on the radio. It was rather fascinating," Red interrupted again. If he found that fascinating… Vincent wasn't familiar with the feeling of pity, but Red played strings he hadn't known he had within. A mirror, he admitted to himself reluctantly, eyeing the white bandages at the flamelion's leg where Hojo had collected a cell sample from.

"A play… on the radio?" So that was what bothered the other man. Vincent closed his eyes and restrained the need to sigh heavily. In the event that Ciddi ever made it over to Wutai, the Imperial Radio would come as a great oddity to him, as would Wutaiian opera.

"We are able to pick up a station called Radio Zero from Eastern Continent sometimes. Tonight they were doing a murder-mystery," he explained. Donna snorted slightly.

"It didn't sound all that professional. Odd if something," she said and stretched and Red stretched under her contentedly. Vincent found himself wishing Cloud were there to meet their rescuee, but Verhandi had insisted that he return as soon as his part was over and he could understand why, even if he had enough self-discipline to suppress the urge to smother and sending Cloud back before the rest of them had been difficult enough a feat. Love did that to you. Love, to him, was Verhandi's gentle smile, stubborn eyes and keen, challenging mind, Cloud spending hours upon hours practising his Ice spell to make him proud and blushing every time someone mentioned Piekna and sad, fond, bitter memories of Lucrecia, his dark-haired ghost.

At times he wondered what Cloud's life might have been without involving him with Avalanche. Then he usually remembered the eyes of the boy-man that had rescued him from the Shin-Ra Mansion, eyes that had waved sadness like a battle flag. The world had done its worst, they had said, but I am still alive. You couldn't turn away from eyes like that.

Vincent could remember the exact moment those eyes had changed. It had been mid-sentence, Cloud's eyes had first glassed over and then it had been like a veil had been lifted to reveal a child inside and Cloud had never completed the original sentence. He had asked who had bitten Vincent to make him a vampire instead, much to his amusement, but also wonder. He had always thought that the talk of the Planet being a sentient, intelligent entity had just mean the regular Mother Planet psychbabble from Cosmo Canyon. Gaia.

"Yes, it was all a bit odd. Especially when one of the janitors kept going on about his boyhood in Gongaga before being repeatedly stabbed," he said, not really thinking about what. There was another bemused silence on the phone and then Ciddi surrendered.

"Right. If you say so. Ok, help with the identification now? I think I found a crate belonging to the Science Department, but I would really like to know if that's dangerous to touch or not." Red's tail flashed like somebody had thrown magnesium to it, leaving white spots dancing in Vincent's eyes. He found he was gritting his teeth and stopped. Whatever it was, liberating it could only be a good thing.

And Cloud's life had certainly turned out to be better than it had been the first try around. No one could ask him for more than that, could they? Except for somehow saving Sephiroth, but the General, he was afraid, was beyond saving now, old enough to live his own life and not knowing enough of how the Shin-Ra was killing the Planet drop by drop of Mako to change his mind. Vincent had no delusions about the situation; he couldn't rescue a man that didn't want to be rescued from a prestigious position.

And still he had to try, for Lucrecia's sake.

* * *

Elena was dithering, had been dithering for half an hour. Her nerves were all over the place, which was Tseng's office. She walked around it as she waited for her leader to come, picking up bits of paper and putting them down again, fiddling with pens. She was going to have to report to Tseng and the man wouldn't like what he was going to find out. For all he was allegedly so cold and ruthless the man had the strangest soft spot the strangest person possible.

The word was that they were some kind of childhood friends, but she wasn't sure she believed that. It was just so mundane an explanation to sufficiently explain something this irrational and besides, Aeris was much younger than Tseng.

And the Turk leader had been in a mood ever since they had found out the breach of security, the writing of blood on Scarlett's wall. Now they had to divide resources into protecting her. The worst thing was that they had no idea who had done so; most of the notable terrorist organizations had been eliminated, leaving a vacuum behind them and the modus operandi didn't fit into Avalanche's profile. They were much, but there was not a single assassination by them that the Turks knew of and they knew a lot. Also, the security cameras on the corridor leading to Scarlet's office had shut down that day, a virus in the system had seen to that, ad the one in the office, part of different network, had been blocked by a hat. Scarlet had blown up when she had heard and to top that misery off, Hojo had blown up also when one of his assistants had called him to inform him that an important test animal of his had been stolen and all this when the demonstration was only a day away. Marlene Wallace had somehow been spirited away too.

Telling Tseng right now that someone had broken and entered into Aeris Gainsborough's house and put her bed in fire, thank-gods-very-much when she wasn't on it, was going to make him blow up.

"Are you ready to plead the fifth?" Cissnei asked, dragging her ridiculously big kind-of-shuriken over her dainty shoulder. Elena grimaced.

"The fifth commandment of Gaia, maybe." She had been the one to not notice anyone sneaking in or out of Aeris' house, after all.

Not that there really was a reason to fear for her life. Veld had been the ruthlessness personified, but Tseng showed a little more restraint in tolerating amateurish mistakes.

* * *

AN: Now extended version!


	24. Chapter XVIII: The RKC

**Chapter XVIII: ****The Revolutionary Knitting Circle**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

The Revolutionary Knitting Circle, the pamphlet read, is an activist group which uses craftivism, specifically knitting and other textile handicrafts, in their efforts to bring about social change. We hold that communities and nations are currently subject to the unjust Shin-Ra corporate rule and that a goal of the Revolutionary Knitting Circles is to return us all to independence from that rule. We oppose social divisions, including age, gender, race and class which all allow us to be conquered by dividing us. We hope to increase participation in activism by offering a different approach from the often intense, and sometimes hostile, modes of activism most commonly associated with social justice movements.

Barrett lifted his gaze from the pamphlet, disbelieving. The man in red didn't even raise an eyebrow.

"The Revolutionary Knitting Circle? Are you shitting us?" Now the eyebrow did the regal arch, but other than that, Vincent might have been laughing inwardly or maybe not. Barrett could never tell what the ex-Turk was thinking.

"You said you wanted our front organization appear harmless and earnest, with the primary tactics of nonviolent resistance, but sufficiently radical ideologically to take part to the demonstration. Besides, Verhandi was the one to come up with the craftivism." Figures, Barrett thought, the only one that could occasionally be even odder than Vincent.

"But we are men! Most of us, that is," he grumbled even though it was too late to make an issue out of this now. He should have checked in on this sooner.

"Read further. It reads that given the common view of knitting as work associated with middle- and lower-class women we hope that this choice of medium will help to counter outdated stereotypes." It had to be some sadistic Turk kind of joke. No way were they going to be caught now, Barrett decided, because death penalty was just death penalty, but getting caught as a member of a knitting circle of any kind was fate worse than death.

* * *

He was a teenage boy and if given the choice and the opportunity, Cloud would happily laze around in his bed until noon, but this morning he had gotten up at seven am and tried to get a little more sleep, waited for three hours for the broadcast to begin. Now he sat at the communal kitchen table, looking at the blue, flickering light of their television intently. Ten children were hugging and tugging at the dogs there, the sound wasn't all that good, but the laughter came through the white noise. One of the girls had a red beret that reminded Cloud of his own, the one that had been left in Scarlet's office. He knew that this was a window to the past, that what happened now was a demonstration that hopefully went without a hitch, but he couldn't be sure. He wished mother had let him stay in Midgar where he could have at least watched.

With three cups of terrible instant coffee in her already and a rare three-day weekend spread out before her, Verhandi Valentine had moved on to eating her toast and pinkish marmalade by the time Cloud had arrived to drop into the chair on her right with a cup of his own in his hands, the hotness of it warming his fingers nicely.

"It's going to be alright," she said and Cloud knew his mother well enough to recognize the worry in her voice, but it was nothing more than the usual and he felt a knot he hadn't known was there relaxing in his back. He put the foaming cup to his mouth; it was still pretty terrible, but it would clear his mind almost instantly.

"Mother, I have meant to ask you for something. Why did you insist that I keep the name Strife? I mean, you are head over heels for father, aren't you?" Just not instantly enough. When Cloud was tired enough things at times just fell out of his mouth like that without conscious decision. Mother seemed surprised, but luckily not uncomfortable or annoyed. She blew a lock of hair from her face and nibbled her toast.

"Of course I love Vincent, but I loved Aske too and you are all that's left of him now. Vincent doesn't expect me to act like there had been no Aske and I don't expect him to act like there had been no Lucrecia; they are part of who we are. Maybe you'll understand once you fall in love." Cloud had heard the name Lucrecia once before and never again. He knew that she had been a scientist and Vincent's first big love and that she had died, that was it. He wondered what the unknown woman had looked like.

"You must be prettier," he said and Verhandi laughed shortly, soft, mirthful chuckles. It kind of reminded him of the night they had held a late housewarming party for their new headquarters and even Cloud had been allowed a little watered wine, which hadn't tasted like much and certainly hadn't gotten him tipsy. Mother had been more than little tipsy by the time they had gone to bed and had explained some kind of game to Donna that had involved playing twist for kisses and really, no one should have to hear their parents giggling like school girls, but Verhandi had seemed so young then. Now Cloud could see that there were few gray hairs among the fair and that there were small wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Mother would be old and well and truly wrinkled when father was still young-looking and strong. He could imagine it, like a lush, green vine climbing old olive tree and father would probably still think that mother was beautiful.

"I wish I would one day meet someone who loves me that much," he said wistfully and winced then and downed his cup of coffee. Time to clear the mind now.

He was saved from having that conversation with his mother when he heard a pair of footsteps and commotion from the hallway.

"All right, where are all the clean socks!" That was Pœga, his voice still hoarse. A sore throat had kept him from assisting in Midgar this time.

"Go get your own. What do I look like, your maid?" And that was Ulises, still in Fabales because of a sprained ankle. Both of them had complained loudly when left behind.

"Dunno. Where're that white, frilly apron and blue miniskirt again?" Cloud glanced up briefly from his toast and omelet, looking over just in time to see Ulises put Pœga in a headlock and give his dark, messy hair a thorough knuckling. Snorting and almost inhaling the toast, distracted thoroughly by the mental image of tall, bearded Ulises in a maid's outfit, his mother shook her hard and Cloud dropped his eyes back to his omelet.

They looked at the happy pictures of happy children flitting through the screen, peering at them like they could see through them to the demonstration and the Revolutionary Knitting Circle aka Avalanche undercover behind the screen if they tried hard enough. At one point Cloud thought he saw a glimpse of himself, but he wasn't sure.

"Mother, can I get the injections sometime soon?" Cloud asked distractedly. Maybe he could go to the next Mako raid. The Lifestream was in flux; it generally moved slowly, but lately, under the right conditions, the entire direction of it could change without warning; mother said it was probably one of the Planet's defences, trying to control the flow of her blood away from the parasites. So, while the reactors were built on the strongest node it was somewhat safe to tap, there were also a network of pipelines to suck the green lifeforce from other points and that was where they came in, stealing all they could, taking the barest minimum they needed and infusing the rest of it slowly to the lifestream. This caused a surge of life wherever they released the condensed Lifestream, green mass of grass so thick they could hardly walk through it growing in front of their eyes like magic, trees growing from seeds to saplings tall enough to tickle Cloud's shoulders and a riot of flowers and later fruits blooming madly out of season. That Cloud was allowed to do and he loved it.

"Not until you are sixteen," mother said automatically and Cloud sighed. It had been worth a try anyway. Not that he was really that impatient when it was only a matter of months, but the sooner he got the injection the sooner the sleepwalking, and the dreams, would cease. Maybe, and he really should feel more enthusiastic about that. What would it feel like to have the blood of Gaia running through his veins? What did it feel like to Sephiroth?

Not Sephiroth again. He had made a decision to stop thinking about the man.

* * *

"Don't wanna go to sleep!" a young, offended voice complained. Elfé could hear Marlene from the front yard; the girl certainly had strong lungs.

"But I'm not sleepy." When she entered the house the voice was milder now, cute and pleading. Her memory was still a bit sketchy and she entertained herself trying to recall if she had been difficult to send to bed at night.

"Marlene Wallace..." Agdta warned in her mom voice, "I said..." She didn't get much further.

"But I'm not sleepy." Elfé poked her head in the guest room with a grin. It wasn't meant as a child's room, the bed standing so tall that Marlene needed a little foot rest to climb on it on her own and no one was allowed to help. She was sitting on the bed now wearing the old t-shirt Elfé had borrowed her as a nightshirt. It had a green leaf pattern and reached the small girl to her ankles.

"Elfe!" Marlene crowed eyes sparkling with happiness, holding her arms out to her newest aunt. Elfé barely managed to hide her smile as he picked up the little girl and swirled her around, the brown hair covering the small flowerlike face. She thought of Sears and Fuhito, but didn't stop smiling. Two years were sufficient time to get over it as much as she ever would, but there was still this one regret, one might have been. Would her daughter or son had had brown hair like she did?

"Aren't you listening to Agdta?" she asked as sternly as she could with Marlene giving them both her best innocent who-me look. She was very good at it, even better than Cloud had been.

"Not sleepy." The young girl declared again. "I wanna story." Agdta sighed and rubber her neck, Elfé could see the tension the older woman was hiding from her young charge in her muscles.

"We go through this every night. One story after you get in bed." So it was an old argument, then, and not the situation.

"Right." Agdta smiled tenderly caressing her foster daughter's hair. Glancing over at Elfé, she nodded.

"I'll put her to bed. You can go talk business with Veld." She probably didn't realize she still frowned when she said Elfé's father's name; as big a shock as Reeve turning out to be a dissident had been to her Agdta had obviously bigger still problems trying to wrap her head around the notion of the infamous Turk leader as an ally.

"Of course." She smiled back, "Good night Marlene."

"Night Elfe." The girl waved as Agdta picked her up and put her on the blue blankets despite her half-hearted protests.

Veld was already sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee from the big, red mug Elfé had appointed as his. He didn't live with her of course. As happy as Elfé was to have a father again, she was still a grown woman who had lived on her own and led her troops for years and living under her father's gaze would have diminished her even more than she had been already when she had eventually given up, realizing that no amount of Mako could fix what Fuhito had done to her morale and motivation. They lived at the opposite edges of the small village, meeting weekly and both suitably comfortable with that. They were also both beginning to get edgy, a lifetime of battles ingrained in them so that after a year the welcome vacation was really beginning to look less like vacation and more like retirement. That had been the idea of course, but still…

"Would this stretch your principles too much? Or would it feel like conceding too much to me?" she asked. Veld's dark eyes glinted in the dim light of the old-fashioned gas stove. He didn't pretend he didn't understand what she was asking of him.

"The years I served Shin-Ra have not left me with many principles I wouldn't bend, my dear, and I think I am more mature than that." She hadn't felt so elated in years! She actually laughed, not amused or dry, ironic laugh, but one of simple joy and her hand made a move towards her waist where her sword wasn't. It was time to begin extra training, she was sadly out of practice.

She felt alive again at it was so good.

* * *

AN: The Revolutionary Knitting Circle really exists and I don't own it. No way could I come up with something like this.


	25. Interlude VI: Vincent

**Interlude VI: Vincent**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

Vincent Valentine had originally intended to become a Soldier. Surprisingly many of the Turks had.

Turks, favoured by the President and with no one like Sephiroth around to force them to back away yet, took their pick of the best candidates in those days, and Vincent was the best of his year. He had fast reflexes, had learned fast how to use a sword, and had unexpected power considering his lean build, but shooting was where he truly excelled. In his progress files, unofficial and Turks-only, it read: "Shit. I want, that about covers it. V V is the best shot I have ever seen, and I mean _ever_. I watched him do a special set up with a one-and-half mile target that was moving, and he nailed the quarter spot. He passed the blindfold test on four makes of guns and he was given the guns whole, took them apart, cleaned them, and put them back together without ever seeing them!"

So the Turks demanded that the Soldier program "loose" his files so they could have him. And so Vincent begun his career rather naïve, just like anyone from good social standing, but he got over it soon.

Being a Turk was a job to him, a job that he excelled in, but that was it. He didn't believe in Shin-Ra, and he didn't think he did wrong more than any human; for him it just was like grass was green and the sky was blue. Being partnered with Veld was the best part of it; especially the unwavering acceptance of his less beautiful side that the older man offered.

His father didn't accept it at all. Grimoire Valentine was a pacifist by nature and while he kept in touch with his son, it was always obvious to Vincent that the man wondered what he had done wrong for his son to have turned out like Vincent had. He wanted to defend himself, remind Grimoire that he had intended to become something else entirely, but to defend himself would imply he had done something that needed defending. A cheap solution it might have been, but he decided to just bypass the issue and get along.

His father had for some time talked about introducing him to his lab assistant, but Vincent had only met Lucrecia Crescent after the death of Grimoire Valentine. His father had deemed the woman worth his own life and so Vincent decided to get to know her better, to respect his father's decision, however much lamented. At first, she didn't seem like much, but her intelligence was keen and her eyes so dark, her smile so haunting...

In the small Shin-Ra Mansion they were bound to see each other a lot and even though neither of them was very talkative they eventually became friends.

He fell in love with her 10 am one Sunday morning in an iteration palaver, a mind-numbingly boring meeting where Lucrecia was making paper airplanes from the notes handed to her. She had looked over her shoulder and smiled at him and for that one instant, Vincent felt as if he was understood like never before. From that moment on, she was his to kill for, to die for, and to live for.

It ended badly, of course. He had no idea what caused Lucrecia to reject him like she had, but for Loki's sake couldn't she have found someone saner for rebound? Lucrecia was assaulted by horrifying visions again and again, loosing weight and what little peace of mind she had had; whether they were true visions or not, Hojo had no business experimenting on her, on her child that should have been Vincent's, too. When Vincent went down to the labs, he fully intended to kill Hojo, hide the body, and seduce Lucrecia all over again, but he had wanted answers too. That proved to be his undoing.

When Hojo had created his Limit Breaks, he hadn't as much infused Vincent Valentine with something external as he had given separate shapes to different parts and aspects of himself.

Galian Beast was his id, the most basic, animal part of the human when all conscious awareness and principles were ripped off, the unorganized part of his personality structure that contained the basic drives, focused solely on selfishness and instant self-gratification. He was also the easiest to reign over, the easiest to overcome, and so also the one Vincent later used most often. Death Gigas was himself without his intelligence and restraint, the part of him that could stand displeasure and hold back. It was like a very big and strong three year old, lashing out and taking its frustration out on the world around him, but also easily distracted. For some reason, Vincent was much more disturbed by giving in to Death Gigas than to Galian Beast even though the difference wasn't that great in practice. It made him feel much more violated, somehow, and he wasn't used to not understanding how his mind worked.

But he still would rather use Death Gigas than Hellmasker; the psychotic thug wearing a hockey mask and wielding a chainsaw was in a way hardest to control because it was his bloodlust without his restraint. Some coped with having to kill by coming to enjoy it. His way of coping with being a Turk had been creating a mask persona, one that had let him enjoy the killing without guilt, something that had blocked everything he felt and let him be the killer he had needed to be. That mentality wasn't without problems, of course; sometimes a mask like that could take over and then there would be trouble. Hellmasker was not someone he wanted to unleash upon the unsuspecting Planet.

And then there was Chaos, the one given to him by Lucrecia. Then there was one last kiss and no more.

_You think you have it bad? I have been imprisoned in flesh and it will die cell by cell and regenerate to die in bits again the rest of your life. What part of this is not disgusting? _Chaos couldn't take over unless he allowed him to, but regaining that control was always very difficult. He only relied on Chaos when he absolutely had to. _My words cause you more damage than my actions, don't they? For someone who so prizes himself for self-awareness, you are very apt at lying to yourself. _After Lucrecia, he could see no more purpose; he hadn't deserved her and people like him didn't get to keep what they did not deserve for long.

Not before a boy that wasn't really a child had woken him up. Not before the mother of the boy, Verhandi. Some might have thought that she was a replacement; a beautiful, intelligent scientist with a son that wasn't his, but personality-wise she was nothing like Lucrecia and Vincent was grateful for it. He wouldn't even admit it to himself, but for all his undying love he was also full of bitterness.

Verhandi and Cloud he would keep. Come Helheim or high water.

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin  
Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in  
Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove  
Dance me to the end of love

* * *

AN: This has been betaed! Thank you to Quiet N Cryptic.

The lyrics are from Dance Me To The End Of Love by Leonard Cohen. I don't own.


	26. Chapter IXX: Revelations

**Chapter IXX: Revelations**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit

* * *

Love can be a scary, scary thing. No matter how strong your love, how true your devotion, nowhere are strong feelings alone automatically rewarded. And at times troubles only really begin when they are.

What is it like to fall in love? At times you know you are doing so and let it happen. There was something in her eyes, something inviting and lonely and a little desperate. He was panicked under his calm facade, the reality of what he had done finally sinking in and something in his heart told him he must have her. Scarlet knew it was a bad idea: there was a death threat hanging over her head and they were just two lonely people. Reeve knew it was a terrible idea: he would only get her into trouble too. But the problem of resisting temptation is that people are then fighting against themselves and usually they lose.

At times you know you are falling in love and that sometimes, it's a stupid thing to do, but you do it all the same. And at times, love sneaks up on you when you are not looking.

It doesn't necessarily happen all at the same time, even if the feelings may eventually be requited. Cluelessness is good for claims of plausible deniability and opposing factions are more of a roadblock than a dead end. Love may not alone conquer all, but it makes people determined like Múspell to try.

* * *

There was a dent in the wall just beside the window now, a dark cloud of soot hiding the light brown of the ceiling and the smell of burning. Other than that, Aeris' home was just like always; pots with flowers on the windowsill of the kitchen like usual, the ceramic urn with the funny shaped crack where Elmyra kept her ladles. Elmyra herself, wrinkles on her forehead showing clearly as she glared at him with suspicion when Aeris offered him apple pie and lemonade as a thank you for helping to rebuild her room. The pie was as delicious as always. The painting in the hallway was ugly, as it always had been.

Even then, nothing felt like it always had before. Aeris had been his fairytale princess, the one he had protected from the dangers of the slums and maybe even from Shin-Ra, by keeping her secrets if nothing else. Then came in Maarit Monrepos, for all there had been no indication of who had been the culprit, Zack was sure it had been her. Of course he knew that fairy tales only existed in those beautifully drawn books in the libraries, but this was too much.

And it had been a warning. You can't be there for her, the assassin had written with matches and flames. A good Soldier he might have been, but a poor knight.

"Come on, tiger," Aeris said, and smothered a giggle, pure simple happiness with no hint of coquetry which wouldn't be like her at all, or worry which would have been the sensible thing to feel, threaded through her voice.

"Would you take a walk with me?" Of course he couldn't say no to her.

Aeris' house was arguably the nicest of the entire sector; it was a cramped and dirty and ragged neighbourhood where no honest people had much money and not even most of the dishonest. At times, Zack was really nervous that she would get hurt, even without evil assassin ladies with a chip on their shoulders, but Aeris seemed pretty universally loved there. And among all the people smiling and nodding to her, even those that gave him scared or hostile looks, the one that turned her head away caught his attention. They had just gotten to the Wall Market and the woman had disappeared pretty quickly from his sight, but he thought he recognized the pretty, wiry figure.

He had mumbled an apology and charged pell-mell in a summer swelter after the back and a shock of honey blonde hair that looked like it might be Maarit Monrepos. The Northern Vampire Bats flew off from steel griders around the city, like demonic versions of nice, fluffy white Gongaga doves. At the stage corner of the Wall Market the players were trying for a forward pass, with the jester that Zack knew was pick pocketing the gullible in the audience on the sidelines in a cast, the pale yellow, portable lamps giving them light. Now the air moved barely at all despite it being an evening, but Aeris' flower in his chest pocket was sweet like perfume. Now the woman turned around a corner and Zack saw the face while the sergeants in their simple, little faded uniforms played a cheery marching tune. It was Monrepos and Zack lengthened his stride as the young people got up to dance. The players, having lost their audience, tried to take the field and the marching band refused to yield.

Maarit Monrepos was no slouch, whatever else she was; she turned around immediately when Zack turned into the alley after her. She still had a little lead and the alley wasn't a dead end, but Zack was a First Class and he felt grim satisfaction when she decided to stand her ground, realizing that running now would be an exercise in futility. And so they fought; surprisingly Monrepos was the first one to attack.

"You are under arrest; you have the right to remain silent. You can and may be thrown into a pool full of piranhas. That's about it," Zack growled. It was kind of scary, he managed to think through the haze of anger, that it was similar to Shin-Ra's unofficial policy if worded a bit crudely.

"In your dreams, soldier boy!" she hissed and unsheathed her Electro Mag-Rod. This one was decorated with light blue feather ornament hanging from the handle. She struck, he blocked, he struck back, then she bolted, for she had no weapon that could have blocked his sword. They were dancing, steps bold and beautiful. He hadn't unsheathed his sword yet; it wasn't much good for taking the opponent alive.

"You call that a punch!" Monrepos shouted, sidestepping the blow and then ducking a kick from the other one. "Come on, I thought you Soldiers were supposed to be tough!" It was an old tactic, one

that Zack himself had employed during his time as a Soldier candidate, which he had later (much to Sephiroth's irritation) named as the Neener-Neener-Neener Approach. Then the woman in frilly black and pink dress attacked once more and Zack avoided this one as well, but his stomach was knotting itself up, knowing without reason that this would have to end in bloodshed and death. Part of him still didn't want to do it, tried to think of some other way to end this, but he couldn't and a much bigger part remembered the stench of burnt feathers in Aeris' room and the blackened ceiling above the remains of the bed. He unsheathed his sword with a metallic hiss.

On the next lunge, Zack took a step forward while ducking to the right, while his arm swept back at an angle and drove the Buster Sword into the side of the woman's throat. There wasn't much strength behind the swing, but his blade was big and it almost cut Maarit Monrepos' head off her shoulders.

"Why couldn't you just leave me alone," he muttered, Aeris' words from the old church rattling around in his head. His girl didn't like killing at all. A moment later it dawned on him that he had no idea what to do with the body, he hadn't been prepared for this type of situation, for it to end like this. He couldn't just leave her body there, that would have been just wrong, but he wasn't in the uniform so carrying the body around would just get him into trouble. And then there was the matter of Aeris. He felt filthy now, somehow.

He had heard the commotion of course, but since the noise from the Wall Market hadn't directly concerned him he hadn't paid much attention to it during the fight. When he left the alley, having decided to hide the body behind cardboard boxes for now and alert the authorities later, he walked in on the marching band and the players engaged in a fight. He saw the tuba player hitting the jester to the head with his instrument, leaving a dent into the brass, and the man in the king's garb drop-kicking one of the sergeants, his crown falling to his face. The evening turning to night was pitch dark, but still sweltering. Zack pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned, running to look for Aeris. What a way to end a day.

* * *

The Founder's Day's Demonstration (a rather ironic name, but better than The Demonstration Held Two Days After the Founder's Day) had gone well from their point of view. Jessie, Biggs and Wedge had helped him and Donna to take out the Turks still left on the Operation Provocateur task force without much trouble and after that it had been a matter of keeping an eye on the Turks that left the Shin-Ra tower and everyone who had approached the demonstrators. There had been a few nerve-wracking moments, but in the end all had gone well.

Gaia's Children for Tomorrow had no idea of the danger their organization had been in, but it was better that way. Vincent knew that those with no blood in their hands could much easier claim the moral high ground and make a place for themselves in the new order after people like Avalanche had made that place for them.

Which left him to investigate and make an inventory of the contents of the crate Ciddi had liberated from an airship with a destination set for Shin-Ra base Firefrost One.

Most of it had turned out to be mundane, though he'd had to call Verhandi to make sure: a microcentrifugeand two dozen microcentrifuge tubes to be used with it. Seven pycnometers, specific gravity bottles, flasks with a close-fitting ground glass stopper with a capillary tube through it. Seventeen bunsen burners and eyepieces for michroscopes. An autoclave, a pressurized device designed to heat aqueous solutions above their boiling point at normal atmospheric pressure, which took up most of the space.

What bothered him were the spare parts for a vertebrate incubator. In microbiology, Verhandi had told him with incredulity, an incubator is a device for controlling the temperature, humidity, and other conditions in which a microbiological culture is being grown. Vertebrates are members of the subphylum Vertebrata, chordates with backbones or spinal columns, up to and including mammals, reptiles and birds. There had been speculation since Hollander's early experiments about the possibility of applying the principle to higher life forms. The most ambitious speculation had concerned some primitive Chordates, a group united by having at some time in their life cycle a notochord, a hollow dorsal nerve cord, pharyngeal slits, an endostyle, and a post-anal tail, maybe even eventually to the Vertebrata, but officially no one had come up with a feasible solution yet. Unofficially Hojo was up to no good again.

"I don't know what those incubators look like so I don't know if Hojo has any in Midgar. I'm sorry," Red answered his question, tailtip twitching nervously and briefly threatening Vincent's coat.

"It was a far shot anyway," he said, disappointed but not surprised. He had been down in the labs too, but since he had no idea what an incubator looked like either they were left with no intel on that.

Vincent knew that spoiling Hojo's experiments wasn't high up in Avalanche's priorities, but he was going to do all in his power to get Barrett make an exception for this. Nothing Hojo could do with that advanced technology could be good news and maybe that was the right angle to highlight; Shin-Ra had obviously a lot more advanced technology than the company had let the general public understand and the possibility of super weapons was worth some industrial espionage.

* * *

Cloud's legs ached more than he'd ever remembered them doing before and his knees barely held him up when Pœga helped him down from the chocobo they'd been riding for the past six hours straight. He had known that riding for a long time was hard on you if you weren't used to it, but who knew riding required that many muscles? The chocobo puffed out, gave a friendly wark, and then began chewing on his collar. Cloud swatted at her beak lightly, but it had no effect on the big, emerald green bird.

"Cut that out, Hildr," Pœga said, cuffing the bird amiably and she turned her head to look at him soulfully.

"Cloud doesn't hide greens in his pockets, you bottomless stomach. Are you doing okay, Cloudy?" He asked then and gave Cloud a little pitying look. At the same time he took a dried apple from his own chest pocket and gave it to Hildr who snatched it away happily.

"Yeah," he managed, because his knees were slowly beginning to feel less like jelly and more like bone and sinew. "I have never ridden for hours on end, that's all."

"You could have warned me." Pœga's voice was reproachful.

"I'm the only one light enough when Jessie and Donna are away and mother's busy now." He had volunteered himself on the soap and chocobo run. They would sell the soap and other cleaning products in Fabaceae and buy a new chocobo with the money. The problem with the airships they had stolen from Shin-Ra in Junon few years ago was that they caught everyone's attention wherever they went. Not a problem if they could land somewhere secluded, but sadly Shin-Ra bases and installations tended to be near cities and towns. The problem with getting a new chocobo was that their current one had to carry both her rider, the merchandise and the one who would ride the new chocobo to their HQ. That meant that the one who would double up behind Pœga on the chocobo's back would have to be light, because chocobos were stronger than they looked, but not that strong.

The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon, painting the sky and the land in flaming orange and friendly, warm okra. Pœga was complaining about having to camp under his breath, much to Cloud's surprise; it wasn't like they hadn't all camped before and often. It just took a little more work to make themselves comfortable during the summer.

"I'll take Hildr to the stream; I think I hear water," he said and took the reins to his hand. Hildr pecked him on the back of the head in a friendly manner and trotted obediently after him. It was only a little stream, shallow and babbling over the places it hadn't worn away yet, but there was a bit of a grassy bank undercut for a few inches by the rush of the water, and Cloud knelt on the wet grass in order to splash some water on his face. He wouldn't drink it since it was brown the way swamp water was at times, rich with humus, and Cloud thought that the steam probably originated from a swamp somewhere near. Still, it was good enough for Hildr and the bird was much refreshed when they walked back to the camp, stopping only to chew on some tasty-looking bushes a few times.

Pœga had lit the fire by the time Cloud was back and he was cutting carrots and meat up on a small, plastic board. Cloud tied Hildr to the willow near the notch where there were rich green sprouts for her to eat and made sure the rope was long enough for her to get to them comfortably. Then he gave the bird a few trail ration bar, grains and dried fruit stuck together with honey. Hildr attacked the bars like she was afraid they would grow legs and run away.

"By the way, Cloud, I heard that Barrett is going to see if he can get our numbers back up a little and they are going to go to Cosmo Canyon to see if they can get some recruits. And Piekna should be sixteen now." Cloud turned his head to see Pœga giving him a wide smirk, amused, but also genuinely happy for him. Cloud still missed all of Cosmo Canyon, but Piekna, Ella and Voica the most.

"That's great. It would be good to see her again, I just hope her grandmother's in good enough health." It would be nice to see Piekna agin. Of course nothing guaranteed she would sign up for life like theirs, because it wasn't always easy and Piekna was no fool. Still, there was no harm in hoping, right?

"And here I thought I could get you to blush. Drat." Pœga's voice was disappointed and Cloud blinked, surprised. He knew there had been a time when he would have; he had blushed so damn easily back then.

And the gears began to move in his mind, at first slowly. He knew he'd had a crush on Piekna, but when he thought of her now he only felt friendship. Sure, she was probably even prettier now, her breasts budding and her inky black hair longer; she had been growing it as long as Cloud had known her, but it was like that didn't matter now. He wasn't dreaming of her or anything, she didn't make him flutter and he was at the age where things made him flutter real easily. _Tic tac_, the gears moved. He didn't love her and he really hoped she didn't love him either, because that would strain their friendship terribly. _Tic tac._ He had a feeling he was missing something here.

And then a knot in his mind unraveled without further warning. There was someone he dreamed of on a regular basis and whom he often defended though he was an enemy, even if only in his thoughts. Someone he had hugged and it had made him feel odd and tingly. And, he had read the Sephiroth part of Bugenhagen's book so many times the book now automatically opened from the right place. He thought about the cool, aloof, fair man pretty much every day! He felt it necessary to add adjectives like cool, aloof and fair!

It was a good thing that Pœga had already turned to make a soup for them by the time Cloud got to that point. The wind was nice and cool after the hot day, but now his cheeks were heated.

"Oh shit."

It was going to be a nice night; scent of earth, growing things everywhere thanks to no Mako reactor being built on Fabales, clean air and the warmth of sun lingering. He was aching a little, but it was good ache of a long day of riding, not that of fighting crazed, Mako enhanced tonberries all night long. He was with a friend. There was no reason at all to remember a wet, cold, miserable dawn years ago and a cool, authoritative voice telling him to stop pretending unconsciousness.

"Oh shit," he said, this time a little too loud. He just couldn't hold his tongue now.

"What is it?" The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow as he turned on his heels to look at Cloud.

"I think I have a crush," Cloud whispered. He was not going to even consider the worse option, he just wasn't.

"It took you this long to notice?" Pœga's voice was full of incredulity. Cloud felt like banging his head against something hard.

* * *

AN: So sorry about the delay. First I couldn't log in, then I couldn't submit.

This has been betaed by Quiet N Cryptic! Many thanks!

In Norse mythology Múspell, is a realm of fire. It is home to the fire giants, most famous of them Surtr. It is fire; and the land to the North, Niflheim, is ice. The two mixed and created water from the melting ice in Ginnungagap. According to the Ragnarök prophecies in the sons of Muspel will break the Bifrost bridge, signaling the end of times.

I have actually had a bit of trouble finding an equivalent of Hell. You see, Niflheim is the land of the dead, the nastier place than Valhalla, but because the game uses (a variation of) the name as that of Cloud's home town… Helheim is the Goddess Hel's land, but the dead souls don't actually go there. From now on, Múspell is the Hell here.


	27. Chapter XX: Conspiracies for the Advance

**Chapter XX: Conspiracies for the Advanced**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

People like to think in black and white, never and always, in absolutes in a world where absolutes are an abstraction, an intellectual curiosity, not part of the nature and most often a sign of naivety. Black and white are in truth only light and dark shades of grey. Is a space parasite following its own coding, not genetic but comparable, as it converts and devours worlds? Is a Planet pure, unselfish good when it fights for its life with all it has, defending its precious, sentient cells? Dark and light were not so clear-cut anymore. Nature, red in tooth and claw, isn't generally subjected to ethics. Extremes do not exist in nature; people may use metaphors like "different as night and day", but night and day are not antitheses, just names used to describe the light versus darkness ratio.

Insanity's not evil either, it is merely a mind broken. And still, maybe there are exceptions to every rule. Some philosophers speculate that the material world as it seems to us is not the real world, but only a shadow of the real world. That ideas and not the material world of change known to us through sensation, possess the highest and most fundamental kind of reality and that Idea was before Material. Maybe in a world like that it is possible for Evil to exist, if rarely.

"What's in it for me?" Weiss the Immaculate demanded from the scientist standing in front of them. Professor Hojo pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a long index finger and smiled.

Shelke the Transparent watched them all with tepidity. She had learned to fear Weiss' blind hatred, especially when it was lashing out at everyone, and she had learned to fear Rosso the Crimson's clever hands and sadistic mind as the older woman trained her to overcome her forever short reach. They were both insane in their own ways, but the man proposing an alliance with them was insane on a whole different level.

Not that she hadn't known before ever seeing the man; her body would forever remain nine, unable to create life, but she still remembered being pregnant, the breasts she didn't have swelling, her back aching and the dreams.

"General Sephiroth will leave Midgar and he will not return to Shin-Ra. Seven of his best Soldier First Class will leave with him. You are from Project G; Project S will not interfere with you. You can do whatever you want." Hojo's voice was casual, his face showed no marks of hesitation or even worry. He was entirely serious.

Shelke knew of the origins of their Project G through what little Lucrecia had known: while Hojo had worked on Project S, Doctor Hollander had worked on the rival Project Gillian in Banora Village. Project S she knew intimately: Hojo had directly injected Jenova cells into a human fetus in her womb. That fetus was Sephiroth, Hojo's own son, oh why she had thrown Vincent away, why she had panicked like that, allowing her irrational guilt rule over her? Lucrecia Crescent, a scientist also, had carried Sephiroth and his Jenova genes to term. During her pregnancy, she had begun to have visions of just what her child would do when born. The world would burn, mutate, be devoured of all life, the Lifestream drained, all the whispering, lulling voices of the dead gone, they would scream and be gone. Even so, she had delivered Sephiroth.

At times Shelke worried that she was insane too, but at least she wasn't as insane as the man who had damned them all.

"I will give you Rosso and Shelke. Avalanche will pay. Sephiroth will pay. The whole Planet will pay!" Weiss' voice wasn't all that loud, but the very intensity was deafening, his whispers hoarse.

"I would cut the Planet open to see it bleed!" Rosso smiled at his words and caressed her dual-edged blade. Azul the Cerulean gave a rowdy grin. Shelke felt merely tired and a little sick. You need but go to the nearest Mako reactor to see that, she thought sadly. Their eyes shined in the dim room with the Planet's stolen blood.

The Planet would indeed bleed and there was nothing she could do to prevent it, like she couldn't in her previous life. The only man she knew she could trust to help her was dead. This is true evil, she thought. Weiss was crazed and Rosso was cruel, but Hojo, plotting the demise of the whole Planet just because he could, was well and truly evil.

* * *

Cloud's mouth still tasted like the pumpkin bread Agdta had made and the tiger cake Donna had baked for him as he lay on his back, his eyes closed, hooked into the monitors his mother used to observe the reactions his body would have to the Mako sensitivity test. He didn't feel that different, his whole body just kind of tingled, beginning from his left arm where mother had injected the diluted shot, ghosting over his stomach and settling in his fingertips, his toes, his lips and nose.

Raw, undiluted Mako was never used, of course; that would kill a man, but the sensitivity test Mako was the weakest batch. It wouldn't make you strong or quick and your eyes would remain perfectly normal. It didn't even give an edge like the Shin-Ra troops standard boosts, merely allowing the doctors to ensure that your body could handle what it was going to go through. Cloud would have lied if he said he wasn't nervous. If his body was traitorous and rebelled, that was it; mother would never risk his life like that and he desperately needed to get strong.

He heard a door open and two sets of footsteps, but he didn't pay much attention to it before a familiar voice said:

"Good birthday, Cloud." He opened his eyes to see Elfé smiling to him, katana at her belt, and it was all so right, he felt his throat constrict with the feeling of it. It wasn't that Barrett had been a bad leader, quite the opposite, but no one but Elfé could ever be Elfé. Sears stood at her side, looking happier than Cloud had ever seen him before the day few months ago, and just gave him a sly smile.

"So sorry we're late. There was a clown on a unicycle and I just had to watch it!" Cloud did a double take at that.

"Right," he said. Elfé's smile was more content and amused than really happy, but it was a lot more than the shell of a smile it had been just before she had left them. Left with her father and that revelation still made Cloud's mind spin. The machines beeped gently on the background.

"Actually, it's true. Ciddi lost a bet with Sears. Don't ask," she advised. Knowing Ciddi, it probably involved Jessie and booze. Love could make people stupid, as he could attest.

"Was there any cake left for you? Biggs was looking at it, but I told him to leave some," Cloud asked. Sears nodded and ruffled his hair.

"Yeah, it was good. So you are a full-fledged member now? That's good, you're a natural, kid!"

Cloud told him he wasn't a kid and took the card Agdta had given Elfé to take to him, made by Marlene. He was basking in the attention, the glory of being a real activist now.

He'd had no idea Marlene Wallace was so young, he thought as he looked at the red and green stick figures and the big, pink heart on the paper. Barrett had never mentioned her age and he had always somehow assumed she was his age and apparently, so had Hákon, if the way the man had first stared the little girl and then glanced at him was any indicator. And in the middle of all this rejoicing for his coming of age his mind was miles away.

He wasn't in the habit of lying to himself or crying over spilt milk; Cloud's father had taught him better than that. He wasn't about to accept the situation as completely hopeless either, now that his mind had kindly dragged the issue into the open. A few days of desperate denial and then the return of Elfé, with her Turk leader father and news of Reeve Tuesti offering them his aid, had reminded him that few things were completely unattainable. He only had to decide if the chance of getting to know General Sephiroth better and _maybe_ finding out he was serious and_ maybe_ having his feelings returned would be worth the many risks involved in such an endeavour. It was completely ridiculous that he even considered it, but Cloud still found himself putting together a plan. Better to have a plan you don't need than to need a plan you don't have, right?

First, something could only come of his traitorous feelings if they weren't actively hostile. Because he was in Avalanche and intended to help his father kill Hojo, that was a problem. Cloud didn't think Sephiroth would rue him for getting Hojo killed, but their goal of shutting down all Mako reactors, the main source of Shin-Ra's income and resources, was bound to come between them. He had a hard time believing he had it bad enough to formulate a plan like this, but he couldn't exactly deny he was doing so.

Maybe he would cease to dream of Sephiroth now when he actually got his Mako injections. He didn't wish so, but he had a sinking feeling that the voice crooning childish rhymes or quoting epic plays in his sleep had no more reason to tease him so.

"How are you feeling?" mother asked him, walking to the bed and looking at him concerned. Cloud felt a brief, but strong surge of pride when he saw her in her white lab coat, remembering and thinking about the fact that she was the creator of the Avalanche Mako treatments program. Where would they all be without his parents? He had the coolest family ever and Cloud was aware of and humbled by it, hoping they wouldn't disapprove too strenuously when they found out. And, in the middle of all this angst about being enemies, he hadn't even had time to really wonder about Sephiroth's sexuality, or even his own.

He was obviously at least a bi. As far as he knew Sephiroth had never been known of dating, period. The man was a very private by nature.

"I'm great, but you can tell, right?" Cloud pointed the monitors. Mother smiled the proud, sad smile she'd had when he had returned from Midgar and put down her notes.

"Feeling are always better than machines," she said and before Cloud could call her on her very unscientific attitude she bent down and hugged him, her pale hair falling on his face. He could still see Sear's broad grin and Elfe's wistful face through it. She wanted children, Cloud realized for the first time.

"My son is all big now, isn't he?" mother whispered and Cloud felt his throat constrict, felt her breath warm against his shoulder through the stupid, green hospital gown.

"I love you too, mom. Enough of the mush, Sears is looking," he told her, but he knew he fooled no one, least of all his mother. He hugged her back, he couldn't not hug her and he felt kind of guilty too, not that he was going to tell that or the reason.

He had an odd feeling that maybe father wouldn't be mad at him for liking Sephiroth, falling for Sephiroth, whatever the case and right wording. Father had issues involving Shin-Ra's prized general and his issues tended to have to do with Hojo or Lucrecia, of whom he had heard of once and never again, but he could read between the lines. Father didn't hate Sephiroth so it was more likely Lucrecia. Actually Cloud didn't know what to think of that, he didn't like the thought of his father still thinking of this Lucrecia, but mother had said she still thought of Aske too. Maybe it wasn't something a person who had never lost their loved one could understand and in that case Cloud very much preferred never understanding.

"By the way, Hákon called me just before we came here. He told to tell you that Piekna's game," Elfé said as she put a small red-wrapped gift on the table next his bed and now Cloud felt himself grinning idiotically. Maybe she would love him, maybe she would not, but Cloud decided then and there that he would see if he could feel anything for her before risking life and limb going through his stupid plan of winning over Sephiroth.

Sephiroth was a sensible, rational, pragmatic person to the extreme humans rarely managed, he had learned that much. Destroying the Planet would be irrational, so Sephiroth would not continue down that path if he was the one in charge. Sephiroth could be the one in charge, but he only would if both Hojo and President Shin-Ra pissed him off like there was no tomorrow. The good thing was, they had likely done many things that would do just that. It was only a matter of Sephiroth finding out. As his field of sight began to swirl with strange colours and the sound of his mother and guests talking made him see pretty little sparks, Cloud was plotting. He still couldn't believe what he was plotting; it was like someone had taken over his brains!

Cloud didn't realize it then, but the person who had raised him as his son had pressed his well- meaning mark deep into Cloud's psyche, gently, and irreversibly. True, he was all that was left of Aske, but he was Vincent's son through and through.

* * *

AN: The Reunion would affect the Tsviets as well as any Soldiers, the just don't know it and Hojo is lying through his teeth.


	28. Chapter XXI: Stumbling steps

**Chapter XXI: Stumbling steps**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

What is it like to be a Weapon? The monster Valkyries who battle the Igniter of Forest Fires, Mother of Frost and Famine, the Extinguisher of Stars. They are the deadly gems of Gaia crystallized in Mako, sleeping under hot sands, frozen within the ocean in deeps where blue turns to black, embedded to the bedrock, sleeping in thick, humid jungle and in the Crater where everything begun. And the one, the last, desperate measure, the revelation at the end of age hidden away in the heart of the Planet. To be a Weapon is to be a sword and a gun. It is to be a monster and who can tell what monsters are except other monsters? So tells the lore.

Science tells another tale. To be a Weapon is to be cunning, but not aware, to sleep and to awaken when identified by interplanetary pattern recognition receptors. What is it like to defend your living body from a parasite? For Gaia there are no doctors to issue medicines. This is why Gaia can only suppress them for so long; the protection is not voluntarily and in the end she doesn't even try more than that for Gaia's function is Gaia and she has produced and dispatched the Weapons to cleanse threats to her continued existence. Both are true or neither are. The Weapons don't care.

But these are not the only type of Weapons.

There is one foreign Weapon, one forged by one of Gaia's to be wielded against her by Calamity. But even he was Gaia's first, in the womb he was hers, and so Nova Jenova is not the only mother to call for their child. But it will be in vain, and so Gaia has called for the third type.

* * *

Hojo had waved distractedly at the worn chair before his desk, giving the majority of his attention to the thick file in front of him; the rest of the science department had switched to using computer files as their media ages ago, but Hojo was stubbornly clinging to his papers and fountain pens. Sentimentality didn't become him, Shin-Ra's priced general and guinea pig had thought. Sephiroth had glanced at the pages as he settled onto the uncomfortable chair, but as he was no chemist, let alone a Mako chemist, they hadn't told him much. Project S at the top of the front page was what had let him know they were about him.

"I'll be back in a moment," Hojo had said as he walked out of the room and Sephiroth had had to gnash his teeth to keep from reminding Hojo that he had been the one who'd called this meeting and that he had an actual mission, courtesy of Hojo also no doubt, to carry out instead of watching the professor attempt to play head games.

But he had wanted to get the interview over with as soon as possible and get ready for the long road to the coast, so he hadn't made an issue that would have only further delayed them. So he had waited, and Hojo had given him the injection. Now, as the lightning periodically flashed the cabin clear and sharp with bright, white light and the ship was rocking haphazardly, he wondered if the strange, burning churning that seemed to radiate from his stomach to his chest and all around his body was simply seasickness or after effects of yet another Mako-hormone cocktail that might improve his performance some hundredth parts of a percent. His migraine had returned with a vengeance too.

"You know how they believe in Wutai that the god of thunder may steal a person's belly button?" Zack asked him, sitting on his bed as he swung his legs haphazardly in the small space between the bed and the nightstand.

"No," Sephiroth said, hoping his aide would take the hint and let him suffer in peace.

"Well, now you know. But what happens afterwards? Will the skin close or will there be a hole? I could live without my belly button, but if there was a hole in my stomach I could die!" No such luck. Sephiroth pinched the bridge of his nose and wished for patience or a shipwreck that would shut Zack up; he wasn't sure which he wished for more.

"You have such terrible worries," he muttered acidly, and wished normal painkillers would work on him. There was so much Mako in his system, his body neutralized most drugs right away and the situation didn't quite call for codeine.

"Why haven't you used your Cure?" was the next question and Sephiroth felt his restraint snapping.

"You think I haven't thought of that? Cure did nothing, even at the highest level! Now shut up, your voice is grating on my nerves!" Cure had never dulled his headaches. Black sawtooth lines were dancing through his field of sight—now he had to battle nausea too. This reminded him terribly of that one headache in Wutai, when all had been hazed by red and he had fought an army single-handedly and won. The ship rocking them like a centrifuge gone crazy didn't help any.

Zack said something and stood up, walking to his bed and crawling behind him. Sephiroth didn't like it when people touched him from behind, but Zack's big, rough hands felt wonderfully warm when they enveloped his temples and began their gentle kneading, so he let it be and let his anger slowly slip away. At times, he feared that Zack might simply get tired of struggling to endure him and walk away. He had often taken out his bad temper on his friend for reasons that weren't his fault, because he couldn't strike at those who really were to blame. Zack had never done the same to him and logically he should grow weary of Sephiroth sooner or later. It was his good luck, he thought, that Zack and logic were merely passing acquaintances at best.

"That is good," he said as a way of apologizing. He had come to find out that apologizing might send Zack into an irate tizzy, especially when he apologized for something that Zack decided he shouldn't; apparently, it was even worse than not apologizing for something he should have, if Zack's volume was an indicator. The pattern of things to not apologize for was complicated and often unpredictable, so it was easier to not say it. He wasn't up to the guessing game now, nor the dreaded _Dammit, Sephiroth,_, _if you ever apologize for _(the slight) _again I'll kick your sorry ass into the next week, do you understand? _That one was rare, luckily, as it made him feel very ill at ease.

He knew that Zack wondered why he stayed in Shin-Ra and he really hoped the man would never actually ask. There was no way he had a correct answer to that one.

"Why did they send us over the sea by boat anyway? Airship would be much faster," his friend grumbled and Sephiroth silently agreed. They would waste days; they already had just gotten to the harbour. He was sure there was much about this mission that he hadn't been told; why send five Soldiers from Midgar, one of them General Sephiroth himself, to search for missing personnel when there were capable men much closer to Firefrost One? President Shin-Ra had avoided both the question and his eyes, so Sephiroth knew that it had something to do with Hojo. Why the president gave the scientist so much leeway was as big mystery to him as the way Hojo's mind worked.

But he was too tired to look underneath the underneath right now, and while Zack didn't quite manage to knead the headache away, he would keep the tension from seeping into his neck and shoulders. Feeling the tug at his lips, Sephiroth's realized much to his surprise that he was smiling, though faintly. There was the low rumbling of thunder as lightning illuminated the small, but almost fanatically neat cabin, the crisp, blue blankets, spotless wooden surfaces and the metal parts shining so much, he could see his distorted image in them. The orderly room was kind of calming. Maybe this trip wouldn't be a complete catastrophe after all. He had more important things to do than that of course: a stack of personnel files waited to be waded through before they chose the next set of candidates for the Soldier program. But he didn't like paperwork—he didn't think any sane person _could_—and despite his random train of thought, Zack was good company.

"Speaking of Wutai, are pandas black and white, or white and black?" Zack asked out of blue.

"I have no idea and no pressing need to know either." They were speaking of Wutai?

"I heard once that zebras are black and white, because if you shave them their skin is black underneath. Do you think it's the same thing with pandas?" Then again, if the storm kept him from escaping to the deck for the whole journey, he just might come to reconsider.

* * *

Scarlet had only been intimate with Reeve for three days, but she had already come to notice that the bad side of being with someone ecologically minded and working for Urban Renovation was that people were likely to talk about what interested them, and Reeve had recited his worries and doomsday prophesies (complete with statistics of the decrease in yearly rainfall and the average surface temperature and harvests) to her like at confessional. The man was lucky, she thought as she kneeled on the dirty steel scaffold to tighten the screws that attached the protective casing over the motherboard of her newest treasure, that he had such a sexy voice and that he understood the pressure she was living under. She wouldn't put up with just anyone so gloomy.

She wasn't completely shallow as a puddle, contrary to many people's opinion. It wasn't shallowness that made her guiltily wonder what she had done to whom when she saw the picture of the brownish red writing on the wall before she squished that train of thought. It wasn't shallowness that made her close her eyes from the desolate plains around Midgar as much as it was yielding to her employer and fighting depression. The years in Shin-Ra had beaten all idealism out of her ages ago, but it still bothered her, what she was in fact aiding and abetting; the fact she allowed Reeve to remind her of that told a great deal.

Maybe she wouldn't even put up with Reeve for long if he hadn't been so unsurprised to see her, the usually feminine and fashionable department head, working the other day in dirty coveralls, getting her own hands dirty with her big project. She hadn't wanted her lover to see her like that, her golden hair tied in a knot at her neck and in clothes that didn't flatter her ever-lithe body, but he had looked respectful if anything and asked her questions about her project. Intelligent questions too, instead of the usual "can it blow this up"; he had even looked truly interested in her Mako Cannon. Scarlet had been shocked. Heidegger had once seen the same thing a few years ago and the arrogant, pig-headed man still held it over her.

A static shock bit her fingers and calmed her ire a little. Neutralization of the buildup of electric charge, she thought and caressed the smooth metal surface. She loved the jargon.

"Ms Scarlet, we got the new actuator you wanted!" Jensen shouted to her from the floor below her. She was a chubby, dull-looking woman with mousy brown hair and sadly, her personality matched her looks, but when it came to her field of expertise her mind was as sharp as a razor. Scarlet was kind of proud that she had given women the chance to advance other than the way women usually had to make it in Shin-Ra.

She rather resented them for having what she hadn't been given, but life wasn't fair, and she wasn't going to take it out on them. Well, unless she was having a really bad, gods-awful day, but even then she only shouted at them.

"You know what to do with it. I want to be able to monitor the motor oil temperature tomorrow," she told the younger woman and stood up. Now, when the protective measures were all in place, she decided to call it a day. While Reeve might like this side of her, it didn't mean she wasn't going to wash her hair, clean the dirt from under her nails, or otherwise make herself presentable. In a slinky red dress of course, the one with sequins sewn in the bodice. She was a woman and a sensual creature, and Odin help him if Reeve dared to see her as one of the guys one day.

Everyone wanted her for her body and most everyone wanted her for the power she had secured for herself, fighting tooth and nail over every scrap of professional respect and every coin of the annual budget of her department. One didn't want her at all, but she wasn't thinking of Sephiroth now. Was it so bad to fall for someone that wanted her brains and sharp tongue and still want him to see her as a desirable lady?

She was in Junon because that was where her work was at the moment. Reeve was in Junon because she was and because he could work from there just fine. Neither had a clue how lucky they were.

* * *

Cloud had looked down the saddest city lane in Midgar and passed by a Soldier on his beat. In Cosmo Canyon he had dropped his eyes in front of Zack Fair, unwilling to explain. He thought that should the Soldier, any Soldier, somehow appear here he would hit him over the head, tell him to look around him and then demand an explanation for his idiocy.

Piekna truly looked like a seasoned activist in her green and brown gym clothes, though she had been holding the ornate cinquedea rather unsurely. The name of the type of sword, meaning five fingers, was apt as it described the width of the blade next to the guard and Cloud would really have preferred she choose a weapon with greater reach. Still, he had a feeling that Elfé would introduce his friend to katanas soon enough, so he didn't want to criticize her choice; it would make a good second weapon. Piekna had a few bruises on her, but those weren't from the sword practice. Elfé had decided to begin with katas so the purple spots marring the pale skin were probably from hand-to-hand training. Cloud hadn't been there to see, he had gotten his first mission as a full time member and had been packing his winter gear. Of all the possible places for Hojo to set up a camp, he'd had to choose the Icicle Area. The professor was a true sadist, there was no questioning that.

They were sitting side by side beneath an apple tree full of unripe but red-tinted fruits, encased in yearning for the sun; the two of them were sitting close enough to be boyfriend and girlfriend. The high noon sun was gentle and warm like an embrace; the playful wind was making the long grass dance around them while a green and a dazzling yellow chocobo were walking the side of the fence towards them. Piekna had cut her nails ruthlessly short, and now there was filth caked under the cuticles; her palms were a little red and it wouldn't take many days before the calluses began to form. Cloud wasn't sure if he would fall for her; it was a very romantic situation as far as he could judge and he wasn't sure if he felt attraction or just friendship. She was just getting her breath back when her head shot up, eyes smiling even wider than her mouth.

"That was some heavy jogging. But I guess my stamina will go up, especially since I'm gonna get Mako shots too. It's nice, becoming a resistance Fighter with you." Barrett and Sears had gotten drunk in the welcome party to the three new members and decided that their program needed a cool name too. After a lot of cussing and arm wrestling they had decided on resistance Fighter, much to Piekna's delight and Verhandi's rueful amusement. He really liked mother's laughter, Cloud thought. She laughed much too little as far as he was concerned.

"So your grandmother remarried?" It was a rhetoric question as she had already told him that much.

"Yes, and it was quick too. They only met few months ago, but grandma said that life's short and shorter to old people so they didn't want to waste time." Then she gave a little laugh and stretched her back.

"I was there when the seamstress was changing her old wedding gown. She was twitching the whole time as the poor woman was trying to adjust the waist." A silence fell, but it was a comfortable one, as neither of them felt the need to say anything. Hildr came to beg treats from them while Sunny, still unused to them, waited a few meters behind her new friend.

"I need to go soon. We're having a briefing," Cloud said reluctantly. The thought of his father and Veld on the same mission was still mildly scary, but they were the best infiltrators Avalanche had and it was guaranteed to be educational at least.

"Build a snowman for me, okay? And lets go out when you come back," Piekna asked teasingly and now Cloud was sure she was flirting with him, the way her eyes strayed to his lips and how she leaned towards him proof enough. He was flirting right back, but he wasn't going to hide the changes in him. In Cosmo Canyon where all his closest friends, his age-mates, had been girls he had often been treated as one of the girls by them, but Rain Lockhart aside, he wasn't interested in cultivating a more feminine reputation now. Nothing would come of this if they didn't get to know each other again; the time apart had taken its toll.

"Hákon already called dibs on the first night. He says I have to get drunk at least once, even if I have to buy the bar empty to do it." One of the downsides of Mako, the man had told him, and slapped his back. For a second, he wondered if she would disapprove, but her thoughtful smile reminded him that she was also a newly minted adult and about to take the same treatment. Sun was kissing their eyes and the lazy wind made them lazy too. He should have been going already.

And yes, anyone who saw both Midgar and place like Fabales or Cosmo Canyon and then thought that Shin-Ra was right was an idiot of great magnitude.

"I've never been drunk either. Maybe we could go to a bar together?" He liked her, and not just because she was a lot more confident now. And so it was decided. Cloud was feeling pretty secure already with how things were going, but when he later went to the mission briefing and the subject of General Sephiroth leaving Midgar for some reason came up, a side mention when the possibility of intercepting more of Hojo's crates came up, his belly did a traitorous flip-flop. It wasn't like he was even going to see the man. He really had to work on that more.

He was going to Firefrost One because he was their "Turk except a lot nicer" in training. He had the kind of luck only the very cursed or very blessed have.

* * *

What is it like to be a Weapon? Some Weapons, some cells aren't created as such, but simply picked up and put at work if they are at the right place at the right time, if they have the right capabilities. Something different is going to happen and Cloud is to be the catalyst, unknowingly. Another of him is going to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and suffer for it, but maybe this one can make it right.

If the designated Weapons are like high yield bombs, he is like a sharpshooter's rifle, much less likely to do collateral damage. He is also a person, so he has no idea what else he was. People tend to be like that.

So what is it like to be Cloud? At times difficult, but he liked himself and his circumstances. It was exciting, he was respected, and he had a mission; he was in love, or maybe not. It wasn't a conclusive answer, but he couldn't really have given a comparison if asked for one.


	29. Chapter XXII: The beginning of the end

**Chapter XXII:**** The beginning of the end**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

The sky is slowly lightening in the east, a purple band trailing across the rim of the sky and painting the jungle beautiful. Sephiroth would call it beautiful, but there isn't time, because there is a slow thudding hidden somewhere in front of them as the war drums are pounding out a warning, the pounding of the heart of Wutai in preparation for battle. His head is hurting like it never has before. The heat and adrenaline aren't helping.

If there is one sound that will never cease in this world_,_ he thinks, still and watchful, silent as every eye is scanning the view in front of them, it is the beating of the war drums. It is hypnotic, lulling his mind away into a dark, lonely place. Then he feels tearing slash of pain like a scream inside his head, full of rage and pain it tears its way through his mind and the world is dipped in red fury. And the Wutaiians can see no reason for all they demand it with broken voices, for there is no reason to be found. What reason do you need to die?

"Sephiroth?" Zack's voice awakened him. The man hadn't awakened him with a touch, hadn't tried that since the one time they had shared a tent on a mission. Sephiroth, who had still been more than half asleep, had reacted out of instinct and Zack had been rather startled to find himself flat on his back with Sephiroth's fingers pressing down on his throat.

"How much time until we reach Firefrost One?" he asked and sat straighter. Zack was swerving the truck generously and despite his own misery, Sephiroth found himself pitying the men at the back.

"We're pretty much here," was the answer he received.

* * *

The cutting wind sent the thin coating of snow flying and Cloud rubbed his hands together, then gave the grey sky a dirty look and thanked Gaia they hadn't really decided to move their base there. It reminded him of Nibelheim in early spring and he had obviously gone soft during his years spent in friendlier climates.

"It didn't used to be this cold during summer," father volunteered much to his surprise. "The Firefrost Mako reactor has caused a drastic decree in the temperature during the last decade." His red coat was billowing around him like the red sails of a Wutaiian pirate ship as he worked his technical magic.

"Any chance we might get to reverse the flow down there?" Cloud complained in wistful jest. Father didn't bother answering, but Cloud was pretty sure he would have liked to do so too. He also found himself wondering where the Valentine family originated; father seemed oddly fond of the area.

He was definitely nervous as he crouched against the chilly, ugly concrete wall. This was his first real mission, in a way. When he had distracted Zack Fair, Renata Saint Cloud and the soldiers from finding their headquarters in Cosmo Canyon all he'd had to do was to sit on a ledge. Stealing Fuhito's memory banks had been a cakewalk. When the tonberries had attacked, it hadn't been a mission at all, but defending his and his family and friend's lives. There hadn't been much planning involved, just shooting and running, his blood running hot and cold. Operation Scarlet Woman had been a real mission and there had been few nerve-wracking moments, but he hadn't been a card-carrying member yet, the risk involved had been smaller and he hadn't been under scrutiny then. Veld was a big part of what caused his jitters now. He wanted to reflect well on his father's skills in front of his old partner, so needing a rescue wasn't in the cards.

It only took him a few seconds to reach the place where father hid in wait, and once he had disabled the alarm on a rare-used emergency exit opening there would be their entrance through seemingly endless flights of stairs. Waiting for his father, who was searching for the locking mechanism to insert their emergency codes into in the wall of the uppermost part of the stairwell, Cloud couldn't help remembering their conversation during the planning stages.

"I'm surprised the stairs go that far down," he had observed. "Isn't this a big security risk?" One they were going to exploit so he should know. He looked at his watch. Right now, Veld should be infiltrating the control centre.

"That's the only one that goes all the way. They're put there for safely concerns in case people ever need to leave in hurry and the elevators are out of commission, but are hidden to prevent infiltration," Veld had explained instead of his father. Now Cloud was seeing that in action; the wall slid open and the pair snuck into a dark passage. He had to admit it had been hidden very well. He'd even had time to make a tiny snowman for Piekna while father had been confirming that it was even the right side of the building to search from.

They had separated all too soon, and Cloud refused to turn to look after his father as he passed dozens of doors leading to a huge open-sided elevator. Rather than risk using it, for it was spotted with red, rusty stains and didn't seem all that quiet, Cloud gave a glance to a broad conveyer belt leading down and climbed onto it. The chemical reek was choking as he crawled below Firefrost's industrial zone to the level where the offices were and still below, towards Lab 2 and the Mako Reactor. His knees were hurting before long and his palms itched with something on the belt, but he ignored the inconvenience the best he could. He was a man with a mission.

Stealing information is much simpler and more straightforward than most people think, father had told him. If you don't need to go unnoticed, simply take the motherboard and the memory banks. And if you need to go unnoticed there's always the option of Armoured Golems, Cloud though humorously as he had to suppress a sneeze, remembering Barrett's humorous account of a mission in Junon. And eventually he reached the bottom.

He crossed quickly the large hall, trying to stay out of view of the security cameras. Veld should have set up a video loop by now, but it was better to be safe than sorry. The unclear, blocky shapes of the machines loomed over him as he spurted from one shadow to another under the dim, blue light. He flinched as he stepped loudly on metal grating under which ran many different sized pipes, coded for water, high-power lines and Mako with blue, red and green tags. No guards thus far—a good thing for him. Then he stood before the steel door that led to his destination.

The laboratoty was large, but Cloud's eyes were nailed into one sight at the opposite side of the room. In a huge glass container full of some bluish liquid there was a woman floating. Or at least female and human-shaped. Cloud's mouth suddenly felt dry.

"Múspell," he whispered. Was that the infamous vertebrate incubator?

The woman was deep, unearthly purple, her skin looking more like rubber than real skin. Her head was encased in angular headpiece with wires attached and she was connected to the tank by a tube resembling umbilical cord and fleshy cords resembling bowels. She was curvy and fair-faced, but even then her naked body didn't do a thing to Cloud. He felt like he was watching a female animal rather than a person, maybe some beautiful, lithe cat or a queen bee with thin waist. That or he really was homosexual, he thought dryly, inching slowly closer until he stood so close to the tank his breath left white steam on the cool surface.

There was something strangely hypnotic in the way her hair was floating around her face, in her half-lidded eyes and the silence that suddenly felt deafening against the silent humming of the machines. He wasn't the most superstitious person around, but there was a deep sense of wrong that surrounded the figure in the container. Cloud felt like he had when his father had made him train under the effect of a Confuse spell; little afraid and his thoughts clouded, making it almost impossible to concentrate.

Then he heard the door opened with another dry hiss and Cloud was shaken from his trance, and as silently as he could he hid behind an autoclave and an empty transparent container a few feet from the tank and the purple woman, cursing his dithering. At first he saw only three silhouettes, out of proportions, but when the shapes approached his hiding place he recognised first the thin, greasy-haired man with glasses, dressed in white coat. Professor Hojo, his father's and his personal nemesis. His fingers twitched towards his gun, but then the next figure stepped into light.

Cloud's breath hitched and he was dimly grateful it hitched silently. If the purple woman had bee-like asexuality, then this woman certainly wasn't the same. She was tall and graceful, her reddish brown, curly hair framing a lovely, but cold face. Her face wasn't what Cloud was looking at, however; she was dressed like the models in the Mercenary Babies pin-up magazine Sears and Hákon subscribed to, in black armour that resembled more one-piece swimsuit than anything else. She had legs that never seemed to end clad in black leather boots that reached her upper thighs and a furry, deep crimson trail that swept the floor behind her as she walked after the shorter man. Cloud felt his breath coming fast and swallow and fastened his eyes quickly to the huge double blade fastened to the woman's back, shamed and angry with himself. He was supposed to be a professional. He knew he was beet red.

Because the woman was so impressive, he almost didn't notice anything odd in the girl walking on Hojo's other side. Her hair was also red, but she looked very cute and harmless, though oddly dressed, as if one could have ignored the fact that she was there, in the company she was in. She also looked like she might even be ten years old. But there was also something in her expression, the way she walked… It threw Cloud off for some reason.

Both the woman and the girl trailed after Hojo as the man walked straight to the container Cloud had been staring only seconds ago and looked at the naked, figure inside it with intense look in his eyes before raising his hand to touch the enforced glass. Cloud felt terribly exposed even though he knew the corner was dark and his body was safely hid behind the massive autoclave and his head by the distorting, reflecting containers. Both the woman and the girl's eyes shined with what could only be Mako.

The way Hojo caressed the container was revolting to Cloud; he couldn't help but think for some reason that it almost looked like he was making love to it.

"I have a theory," Hojo whispered and Cloud found his voice as displeasing as his looks. In real life the villains rarely had greasy hair and viperish, oily voice, but Hojo was living up to the storybook stereotypes commendably.

"This is the way She, the original She, first became sentient: by absorbing the trait from other species. She is a marvellous life form, isn't she? The only being known capable of personal evolution." The woman in black and crimson snorted. She didn't look too impressed.

"Whatever you say," she said and even her voice was beautiful. Then she took a PHS from her waist and flipped it open, frowning.

"Lab 1 still hasn't called back. I'm going to check this. Shelke, follow," she commanded and Cloud felt himself reaching for his gun again, unsure. He knew father could take care of himself, if all else failed there was always Chaos to fall back to, but the woman looked dangerous. But a gunshot was bound to alert the whole base, now they were only beginning to suspect.

He hesitated too long and the choice was made for him; the woman and the girl named Shelke left, leaving him alone with Hojo.

Alone with Hojo. Cloud closed his eyes and was surprised to realise he was trembling, his breath shaky and now his fingers closed around Hrist, sister weapon to his father's Death Penalty. He could kill the man now. The childish rage he had felt when father had told him and mother the no doubt heavily-edited story of what Hojo had done to him returned at full force, now peppered with more mature hate. But with maturity came also sense of consequences.

Children were all for killing the villains. They grew up with stories where the wicked withes were pushed into their own ovens, the wolves were hacked open with an axe, the evil stepmothers were pushed into the river in a barrel, dragons were slain by knights in shining armour and the fearsome giants were tricked into their doom by the savvy heroes. It had been easy for little Cloud to say that he was going to kill Hojo.

And here Hojo was, at his mercy and deserving none, but still he hesitated. He had never killed a human being before.

* * *

Hojo looked after Rosso the Crimson and Shelke the Transparent as they left the laboratory and shrugged. With their lesser concentration of Jenova cells it should take at least two hours before they heard the call. They had ample time to take care of the intruders.

It had taken him years to complete his research, to find the right stimulus to activate the homing instinct. The cells of Nova Jenova that had been separated from the main body would return back to her, he knew this by heart. She would absorb the consciousness and create her own sentience from the collective sentience of the host organisms.

Nova Jenova was beautiful. Hojo knew it better than anyone; he had created her after all, from inside out. Her eyes were milky white and soulless, but her autonomic nervous system still worked, controlling her heart rate, digestion, respiration rate, salivation, perspiration, diameter of the pupils, micturition and the transmitting and genetic absorption process. He had attached the electrodes to her equivalent of cranial sensory ganglia and reverse-engineered the right neuro-active drugs to trigger the Reunion. It hadn't been easy; she was a silicon-based life form and ultimately different from anything that had originated on the Planet. He had prepared the machines and the Reunion program, he but needed to give a password to run it.

And he hesitated. For a few agonizing, thrilling seconds he hesitated. The Planet was already dying through no fault of his own. It'd be no great effort to hurry the process along a bit. And he would go with the glory of having proved his greatest hypothesis, the work of his life, correct! For him, science was to die for. His fingers danced on the keyboard.

_Then a__ surge, like electric fire crackling through all of her nerves. She registered the pain, but she didn't feel it. There was no real her yet._

So the main organism began to call back its cells within infected hosts. And Sephiroth arrived to Firefrost One.

* * *

AN: Just to clear things, this Death Penalty isn't the canon Death Penalty, Vincent just likes the name. Hrist is one of the Valkyries. Her name means Shaker.


	30. Chapter XXIII: Blackout

**Chapter XXIII: Blackout**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

Tyche, the goddess of luck, was a fickle mistress. The strong and mighty she would fell, the small and insignificant she would raise to glory. Or maybe not. Luck was nothing if unpredictable, but Hojo had seemed to be a favourite of hers for a long time. True, he was a genius in his own, maniacal way, but his life had been a long series of lucky incidents: being chosen for the Jenova Project by Professor Gast, being able to kill Vincent Valentine, a man much his superior when it came to violence, his untested, shot-in-the-dark method of injecting his unborn son with the J cells resulting not only in a living, intelligent specimen, a miracle in itself, but also the jackpot that was General Sephiroth.

Gast's marriage to the last Cetra, Ifalna, and the resulting production of a half-breed daughter had furthered his research after he had had the fool killed; Hollander's project had ended with the original subjects deteriorating, and the fringe benefits known as Tsviets landing on his lap—and those were only a few on the list of many. He had gotten everything he had ever wanted and much more; he hadn't even known to want without having to pay a gil. But now, the Wheel of Tyche was finally turning. Cloud was going to see to that.

Hojo was standing in the dim, blue light of the incubator, staring at the purple woman inside. Cloud was standing in the shadows, staring at the man in sickly white labcoat and the time was stretching as the seconds slowly passed them by, each like a long eternity, and Cloud knew that Hojo, as enamoured as he seemed to be with the purple figure, wouldn't stare at her forever. He had to act now or he would lose his chance—just like he had lost it with the woman and the girl. He could feel his heartbeat thrumming in his index finger as he pressed it on the trigger. Few more seconds. Hojo deserved to die richly, for his father, for Red, for Sephiroth, for the best of the whole Planet. One pull and it would be over. Few more seconds, and cloud shifted his hands, taking Hrist from the cold barrel. Then he took two quick leaps.

Hojo probably saw him from the corner of his eye, but the professor didn't even have enough time to turn to look before Cloud hit him to the back of his head with the butt of his gun. Hojo swayed comically for few seconds and then fell in a heap to the floor, leaving Cloud breathing heavily like he had just run the obstacle course three times.

The man's glasses had fallen from his nose, reflecting the unnatural blue glow, and Cloud kicked them into shadows hoping they would break. He quickly knelt down and pressed his fingers against Hojo's pulse point, not knowing whether he was relieved or disappointed when he felt the mad scientist's heartbeat under his fingers and for a split second he had to restrain himself from pushing his fingers against the man's larynx and crushing it. At first, he had decided to kill Hojo by breaking his neck, because he still needed to be able to extract the information he came there to get. Then he had decided to leave the man for his father; he had dibs on his tormentor anyway. He would have to kill sooner or later; he knew it and didn't intend to slither away from his duties.

He just didn't want it to be like this. He wasn't sure why, but as much as Hojo revolted him the thought of killing him revolted him just as much.

He had a case strapped to his belt and it held the essentials; an extra Heal Materia, bullet rounds, some clean water, few ration bars, lockpicks, a knife and handcuffs.

"I have always wanted to try these out," he muttered to the unconscious man and grabbed him from behind and begun to drag him towards the heater behind the autoclave. It was obviously part of the original factory hall and seemed out of place in the middle of all the fancy laboratory equipment; blocky, big and just perfect for Cloud's purpose. He cuffed Hojo onto the heater and stood up, looking at his handwork. Then he bent down to take off the captive scientist's belt and used it to gag him. The most feared man among those that knew of how Shin-Ra worked didn't seem so menacing now, just a thin, old man. It was deeply satisfying.

"Wait here for my father," Cloud told him and ran off towards the computer; he had already wasted too much time.

The purple woman in her glass container watched over him with eyes that saw nothing, her silvery hair flowing around her head. Cloud was uncomfortably aware of those blind eyes as he worked; his fingers were sweating and a little clumsy. As he managed to open the panel, the computer stopped its insistent beeping and the humming dropped once more. The program had run its course, and the hypnotic woman floated above him like some harbringer of doom.

And he got what he had come for, eventually. He idly wondered if taking the motherboard away would result in a system failure to the incubator and death to the hypnotic, fleshy creature and felt absolutely no remorse. Just as he had arrived to the laboratory, he left—only this time careful of the clanking metal grating. He was still trying to stay out of view of the security cameras, but now he valued speed more than stealth, trying to get to the rendezvous point that was the beginning of the stairs soon. Things had been going too well and that had to end eventually.

It was blind luck, good or bad he didn't know, that Cloud stopped at the shadows of the convoy belt. There was something in his left boot that was bothering him. He didn't need to run now, but maybe he would have to soon and he wanted to be unhindered. So he leaned against the wall with one hand and took the boot from his leg, turned it over and knelt to tie the laces again. As he was about to stood up a door was opened behind him.

Cloud bit back a curse and thanked any deity that might be in charge of him that he was crouching behind the belt at the moment. Then he turned his head and his heart skipped a beat. No way. It just wasn't possible.

The tall, beautiful man, with a face so stern it had scared armies, marched through the factory hall in all his pale and black glory; if looking at the woman in swimsuit-armour had been exciting, then this made him _excited_ and soft and silly, and he felt the need to bang his head against the conveyer belt. This wasn't supposed to happen, not now. What was Sephiroth doing in Firefrost One? What was Cloud supposed to do now? Then, when he was still trying to sort himself and his plans out, Sephiroth stopped his tread like he had walked into some invisible wall and lifted a hand that maybe even trembled a little to his temple. It was hard to see in the dim night lighting, but Cloud thought he looked like he had just been hit with a Confuse. And the lights went out.

Veld, Cloud thought. Did he know Sephiroth had come? He had to admit that wasn't him, as much as believing it was a benevolent action would have calmed his nerves. There was no way he could get out like this; he could climb the belt by touch alone, but once he was back up he would be lost. Also, there was General Sephiroth to consider and he really hadn't seemed to be alright. He wanted to come out of this with flying colours now when he knew that Veld was watching. This really wasn't the time or place. But he, it seemed, was a fool for love. He rose from behind the belt and made noise purposefully as he began to fumble towards the man in darkness, not wanting to startle someone with his reflexes.

* * *

Desensitization took time and whether or not it took less time with children who were still impressionable or adults who were resentful like Múspell over being taken and experimented on against their will, Shelke didn't know; even though—in a completely messed up way—she had ended up being both at the same time. Shelke should have grown up knowing little else except the atrocities that were committed in Deepground, but there were also Lucrecia's life as a debutante, an arguable disaster, and her life as Shin-Ra's underling, an unarguable disaster. And she was Lucrecia mourning her lover, because to be Lucrecia was still less painful than being Shelke the Transparent, waiting for the sister she knew would never come to rescue her. And Shelke/Lucrecia was numb.

She hadn't thought she could ever be resensitized. But there Vincent was! Hojo had taken the newly resurrected Vincent away and while Lucrecia had tried to sustain a pathetic little fantasy where her beloved survived, she had always thought that there was no hope. She had always _known_ there was no hope.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in," Rosso had drawled with a low, suggestive voice. She hadn't seen anything, Shelke was sure of it. She knew she couldn't see a thing, but they both had seen the panel of the main computer open and it didn't take a genius to realize someone had been there, probably still was. It was only Rosso playing with her opponent's head. It wasn't the woman's fault she had no chance of success. She hadn't called for help, ergo she had been a dead woman walking.

Vincent Valentine would have won a fair fight against Rosso the Crimson, Shelke had no doubt. It didn't really matter, because the split second she recognized her opponent, she struck her right blade through her senior officer's back, through her heart. Rosso's back arched like a bow, like a morbid caricature of her body language when she had to seduce someone, and bloody froth was dripping down her chin with odd bubbling sound. She dropped like a rock and the air smelt like charred flesh. It wasn't the time for it, but Shelke felt brief, mean joy for killing her tormentor and the shadow of guilt that accompanied the joy.

Shelke was crying. Vincent Valentine still lived, he was here; just when all had seemed hopeless and Shelke was crying a river.

"Vincent?" she whispered, and while the gun now aiming right at her heart didn't lower, a quizzical expression flitted through the man's face. He was no doubt trying to recall where he could have met her and why she would kill a comrade for him. Her heart ached when she saw the metal hand, yet another tangible proof of Hojo's cruelty.

"Come, quickly, there's no time for explanations. You remember Lucrecia's visions of the world ending, right? Now Hojo is going to do it!" She raised her voice despite herself.

Vincent's eyes were a hard and deep scarlet like fine blood-rubies were. The eyes of a Turk with no surname and blood on his hand's, but it wasn't like Shelke was the pure, tender Lucrecia either, for all she wished she was (even if being dead was required). She was a professional killer too.

"Where is he? What is he going to do?" His voice was as hard as his eyes. Shelke was grinning through her tears like she had lost her mind. She lifted her hands at her heart level with palms open as a gesture of surrender. In this she was a willing participant and it was so wonderful to have a choice at last. And the lights went out.

* * *

It had been cold outside. Sephiroth didn't like cold weather, for many reasons. It was uncomfortable, of course, but then again, many things were. More importantly, when it was cold outside, because of the inability of normal humans to function at top rate in such cold temperatures, Shin-Ra had the habit of sending the Soldiers out instead to do the kind of menial tasks better left for green troopers. Right now, Sephiroth couldn't decide which he hated more—Shin-Ra, or the cold.

And then there was the accursed compulsion. Sephiroth wasn't one prone to whims; the years he had spent in Hojo's laboratories and the years spent as one of the Planet's most dangerous men, maybe even the _most_ dangerous, had taught him well the worth of restraint. His indulgences were few and far between; the last and maybe the most rebellious had been when he had let Avalanche slip from his grasp for the sake of a boy he kept seeing in his dreams. It was embarrassing to be so out of control when his legend painted him as invulnerable; it was even more embarrassing because this compulsion had no reasonable cause or even a clear goal. If he'd been drugged or enchanted, he could have at least pinpointed it and been more careful in the future.

"You go see Major Celeritas alone," he told Zack, praying in his mind he didn't have to explain himself. Zack gave him a worried glance from the corner of his brilliant, violet eyes and Sephiroth felt guilty for being relieved his friend thought him to be in pain and tired; he was getting rather used to the headache by now.

"All right. Good night, sleep tight," Zack said and turned fully to look at him expectantly. Sephiroth swallowed a sigh. He knew his aide had a very questionable sense of humour and what he was expecting; to do it was utterly undignified, but he still felt rather guilty and they were alone.

"Don't let the bedbugs bite," he recited with a flat voice, happy he had sent the Soldiers to the barracks already. Zack's grin was blinding now, and he was whistling horribly off-key as he turned to walk to the major's office. The bare concrete walls echoed every sound clearly like a particularly ugly acoustics chamber. Aesthetics weren't very high in Shin-Ra's priorities.

He took the lift up to the next floor, stepping from the bright, yellow light into the dim greyish one, walking in the middle of rolling machines, crucibles and many other machines he didn't know the name of, like going through some industrial wasteland. He walked without hurry now that he had decided to follow the crazy feeling, if only to get it to leave him be and dull the ache that was radiating from his chest, hollow and pulsating. His feet took him through three great halls saturated with heavy silence, only his steps breaking through it. There, his steps came to a sudden halt as the headache deserted his mind between one heartbeat and the next, replaced with something he had never felt before.

Was this what being drunk felt like? Sephiroth had never been drunk in his life; first, he detested the mere idea of loosing control like that, and second, it would have taken an insane amount of alcohol anyway. He had only watched and felt much put upon as people made fools of themselves in official Shin-Ra functions and Soldier parties; with a distant sense of worry, he wondered if he was looking foolish now. His head felt so light, and his body felt oddly relaxed and tense at the same time, an oxymoron. He was also hot, and thinking was even more difficult now, replaced by determination. He had to resume his tread. He had to reach his mystery goal; it was more important than anything to him now.

And the lights went out.

Sephiroth was more irritated than anything else. It was a delay. He could see better in the dark than any other human, but even he needed some light to see, and now there were none—except what his own unnatural eyes gave. Why weren't the emergency generators getting started? This base even had a Mako reactor of its own.

A set of hesitant footsteps approached him, causing his enhanced senses to strain as the instinct and training cleared some of the haze from his mind and he drew Masamune from its sheath with a satisfying, metallic hiss, the familiar weight of it comforting him. The steps stopped and an eerily familiar voice called out to him:

"I don't intend any harm." It was a very young and sincere voice. Sephiroth said nothing, and after a while the tread started again. He allowed the person approach and when he could feel the air moving against his skin, he leapt.

He had to drag the smaller body into his own to be able to see who it was. It yielded obediently, though he heard the breath of the intruder quicken drastically. Fear, he thought, but that didn't sound right somehow. Lifting the chin of the shorter man, now he could feel it was a man, he brought his own face so close he could feel the warm breath of the other on his face, so close the Mako of his eyes gave the minimal illumination required to see.

"Cloud Strife." He recognized the boy that had grown into a young man in his dreams. His hand was steady as he held the cold length of Masamune against his neck. Strife's eyes, and now he could see the promise of a glow in them, the beginning of Mako infusions. He wasn't surprised: he had read the reports concerning Avalanche's usurping of Shin-Ra's old edge.

"Are you responsible for this?" he demanded from the youngster. His voice was harsh, but it didn't get the reaction he expected. Just like in Cosmo Canyon few years ago, his opposition wasn't afraid of him at all.

"Of course not; I can't get out either now. Are you all right? You seemed sick for a second before the lights went out." The intense voice asking the question brought back the need, the compulsion to follow. It was near now, Sephiroth could almost taste it, but he knew there was no way he could navigate his way through the factory hall without walking into the machines left, right and centre.

"What do you care?" he asked, not entirely hostile. He didn't like understanding people, but he had a feeling that just like with Zack, no one else would understand this one either.

Strife squirmed against him, and Sephiroth noticed he enjoyed keeping him from escaping. A small part of him was alarmed, wondering just what had happened to his rationality and composure, but it was hard to pay attention to it.

"I just do. It was Hojo again, wasn't it? You should just put your foot down and refuse the treatments." Just like before, Strife's insistence was absurd and so was his boldness. No one else would have dared to discuss this with him just like this, and the young man did so with sword against his pulse point.

"It isn't that simple," he said with a flat tone. He often questioned himself what kind of power Hojo still held against him, now that he had escaped his thumb as General of the army. All he knew was that he felt trapped, that his situation was anything but simple.

"Father once said that you must make your own life, live your own life, and die your own death or you will die another's. Well, that and some freaky Turk jokes about walking into a bar that ended with the bartender dead." The young man obviously embarrassed himself halfway through his speech and tried to soften it with humour, just like Zack would, but also just like Zack, the intensity didn't fade from his eyes.

Why did they insist on berating him for something that wasn't entirely in his control? Deciding to become a Soldier, rising through the ranks from Cadet to Soldier Third Class to Soldier Second Class on to Soldier First Class was bone deep, a complete remaking. It was a disassembling and rebuilding body and mind and maybe soul if one chose to believe in souls. It was as close as one could get to a rebirth, a rebirth as something better and faster and stronger, a more advanced model. It wasn't Mako that made, or sometimes broke, the Soldier. Sephiroth knew it was the suicidal desire to be different, special. Sadly, different didn't necessarily equal to special. For him it had never been a choice.

"I cannot. It's already too late," he told the young one bitterly, more bitterness than he had ever dared to show in front of Zack. But it was for the young to be idealistic and sure of themselves and Cloud Strife grabbed his hand furiously. His palm burned Sephiroth's skin and the not-quite-glow in his eyes gave him as feverish a look as Sephiroth's.

"Yes you can! Just how are they going to stop you anyway? Just stop caring of what is expected of you and live a little!" Like he wasn't talking of high treason, but then again, for a terrorist it must appear like a perfectly natural outcome. Only now, Sephiroth realized that he was still holding Strife at sword-point, still holding his body in a tight grip against his own, and slowly removed the long blade from his neck, reluctantly. He was silently berating himself, it wasn't like him to be so scatterbrained. He hadn't even taken Strife's weapon yet.

He had never realized before how intimate it was to decide to spare someone's life. He was holding Strife at the palm of his hand and while he knew that for the incomprehensible reason he would let the youngster go free again, he would also always hold onto him, own a little piece of the fair-haired man that he could never reclaim, and the feeling was more empowering than commanding an entire army.

* * *

Weiss the Immaculate took a right at the elevators, marched past the plastic potted tree that had been brought to cheer the hallway where no real plant would live, and turned left at the autographed portrait of President Shin-Ra. As Azul the Cerulean was looking for the old man's son, Weiss was going to end his life. For taking him and ruining him and his brother, Shin-Ra would pay in blood, Avalanche would pay for Nero's death, and the Planet would pay for not being a place worth living in anymore.

Weiss pretended it was a coincidence that he was breaking free at the same time Hojo was getting General Sephiroth absorbed alive. It almost did't work, but he had gotten much better at pretending over the years they had been out in the open, no longer among the skeletons in Shin-Ra's infamous closet.

Once again there would be pain, the pain to end all pain. He would bring flames and bring the cold afterwards. He wasn't really Immaculate anymore, but more Crimson than Rosso could ever be, and he was coming home at last. He would make this unholy night his own. He punched the code to the lock and arrived to the part of the Tower no one was allowed without a summons from the President or his son, since they were so attached to their paranoia, just as they were attached to their pathetic lives. The five Turks weren't even a consideration to him, dead before they could draw their weapons.

Shin-Ra didn't even hear him open the door, didn't see him right away, all his attention focused on the giggling blonde perched on his classy mahogany coffee table. It was truly a pitiful sight. How had the man ever lived into adulthood, let alone clawed his way to the top of the food chain? Now he was claiming that spot and they screamed, but not for long and it was remarkably unsatisfying.

He would have to find Soldiers to play with. Somewhere the alarms were singing and he laughed so hard, he was in tears. The greatest thrill truly was to kill!


	31. Chapter XXIV: Fire on the mountain

**Chapter XXIV: Fire on the mountain**

Disclaimer: not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

It was dark and cold and getting colder, except the taller man that didn't seem to be in any hurry to relinquish his hold of Cloud was like a furnace. If Cloud hadn't been so utterly unnerved he would have been ecstatic. So maybe it was just because even Sephiroth couldn't see well in this dark, but the man had grabbed him and held him close; it was kind of romantic if you had as weird tastes like he obviously did. It was just...this wasn't like Sephiroth at all. True enough, he had only met the man twice before—and the first time it had been as a captive—but even then he had known the silver-haired man's reputation as coldly formal and reserved, just as the rest of the world did. Which meant that something was seriously amiss now.

In any case, what had caused the blackout, and was it going to end anytime soon? Cloud had a feeling that they couldn't count on Veld or his father alone to get them out of this, because while ever-clever Veld actually had a flashlight and father could just turn into Chaos, who apparently didn't really need light to see at all, they surely had their own troubles right now.

He would never go anywhere without a flashlight ever again.

"We could get to the upper levels by climbing the conveyer belt there," Cloud said and gestured with his free hand even though he knew that Sephiroth couldn't see it. He was trying not to think how there would be people up there that would take him off Sephiroth's hands and right into a holding cell. He really didn't want that.

"No. I must get to my destination." Maybe the man gestured also. The voice that came from the darkness was stern, but also little unsure and Cloud had a feeling that he shouldn't ask what the destination was. But as long as the darkness enveloped them they could only advance at snail's pace and at cost of several bruises.

Sephiroth's hair was brushing his face, silky fine and feathery touch. It made concentrating so hard.

"The light has got to return sooner or later," he said, but he had a feeling he wasn't too convincing. The light would return, true, but since he had no idea what had happened he couldn't know if it was a matter of minutes or hours. In the dark his skin felt hyper sensitized and the air smelt like chemicals and the leather of Sephiroth's coat. He should be a lot unhappier with this than he was.

"Sooner or later is not good enough," Sephiroth said, with the authority of a man that had conquered third of the known world, a man that would not settle for the second best and it made Cloud's insides quiver. Cloud more felt than saw him moving in the dark, then he heard the metallic hiss of the tall man unsheathing his sword again. It raised goosebumps all over his skin and his breath quickened against his will, until he realized that the man had no intention to threaten him. He remembered what other features weapons had than sharp edges or a barrel, what he too had inserted into Hrist.

"Don't! There's probably nothing flammable anyway, but if there is, it's going to be highly flammable!" But Cloud's warnings went unheard. And there was fire.

Cloud had three slots on his gun and two slots on a bracelet, plus the extra Heal of course, and one of his Materias was Fire. But there was Fire and there was Fire and, Cloud realized, there was a difference. A tidal wave of fire so bright pale-hot that it made Cloud's eyes, used to darkness and not seeing by now, tear in bright pain, surged through the hall. And then there was boom and the floor shook below his boots. He heard the roar of the flames and an explosion, which made him drop on his knees and protect his face with his arms. If the room had been getting cold now it was sweltering. The roar quieted down some, but when Cloud dared to open his eyes again he wasn't sure if he saw the afterimage burned on his retinas or if the fire was really so large. No good, he thought, better get out of here fast. But Sephiroth was like a man possessed…

Sephiroth was covering his eyes with his hands and Clod winced with sympathy, realising that as bad as the sudden eruption of light for him, for Sephiroth it was surely much worse. Hadn't the man closed his eyes? Just what had screwed his brains like this?

"Let me help you," he told the man. "We must get out of here quickly, so I hope you are done soon." And he grabbed Sephiroth's arm, waiting for him to give him directions.

They had only just left Nibelheim and taken refugee in a little town called Keflavik, when Cloud had met a boy one year younger than him, Jens, and his blind big sister Jóna. Jens had taught him the right way to lead a blind person around, with the ever patient assistance of Jóna. Maybe Sephiroth had also once learned to lead blind people around for he seemed to realize what Cloud offered and pointed towards the door that Cloud knew led to Lab 1 and professor Hojo. Cloud winced at the thought and felt the tall, hard body next to his stiffen accordingly.

"Um, you wouldn't have anything against me braining Hojo and leaving him tied to a heater?" he asked a bit nervous. Now Sephiroth opened his eyes and turned to look at him, narrowing his eyes. Then a smile that actually unnerved Cloud more lit his face.

"Nothing at all," he said with oddly hoarse voice. Cloud wondered if he should also ask if Sephiroth had anything against letting his father to kill Hojo, but decided to not test his luck. It wasn't like Vincent Valentine had any intention to ask for permission after all.

The fire wasn't quite as bad as it had first seemed, but the smell of chemicals was scaring Cloud, overwhelming and violently prickling. He prayed to Gaia that it was nothing too poisonous; they had to get out of there afterwards whatever it was that Sephiroth wanted was done. Sephiroth ceased to need his assistance halfway through the factory hall, taking his arm back and marching through the hall definitively. Cloud followed, wondering what he was still doing there, navigating his way through red light and dancing shadows and thick, sickly oily smoke. Cloud covered his face with his sleeve.

And there was the woman of unearthly purple, rubbery skin. Her head encased in angular headpiece, wires disappearing into her silver hair, and the grossly fascinating tube resembling umbilical cord and fleshy cords connecting her to the now quiet machines. Something made a metal sound and Cloud shook himself from the spell of the creature and turned his head to look at Hojo who was trying to get Sephiroth's attention no doubt. The man was inconsequential now. Sephiroth mattered, and the woman, the she-thing. There was an air of silence and calm around her, like the heat and havoc couldn't touch her at all. The blue light of the tank hadn't gone out, not depending on electricity, and Sephiroth walked towards it like in a trance. She was still curvy and fair-faced and utterly malicious. Cloud swallowed.

"Don't go near it," he whispered, but Sephiroth didn't heed to his fledging command if he indeed heard it at all. Cloud had to stop him, at any cost, but then a noise coming from behind took him by surprise. The heat was getting really bad, why weren't the sprinklers getting started? Oh yeah, the blackout… Sweat was stinging his eyes and he was wondering if he could knock Sephiroth unconscious too and live to tell the tale.

If he stayed even few minutes more he wouldn't, that was for sure. Too bad he was interrupted just then.

Being a badass fighter has no discrimination based on physical appearances as the martial artist with pink leggings in Junon had taught Cloud. If a fluffy poodle beats up a wolfhound, it's because the fluffy poodle is tougher than the wolfhound, no matter how cute and fluffy and girly it looks. In a similar vein, Cloud being small and sadly cute didn't mean that he was soft or weak. So when Cloud heard steps running down he took cover and took his gun, readying himself to shoot. It was easier than considering whether or not he should shoot Hojo at and let his forefinger fall on the trigger.

* * *

Zack couldn't think of many threats off-hand that Sephiroth couldn't take out with a couple of swings, without even breaking sweat, but the explosion had rocked the ceiling over him and Major Celeritas, making pale plaster rain to their hair and something was very, very wrong. Things had been bad when the light had gone out, eliciting a startled yelp from the man commandeering the base, but this was real bad. He was running a flashlight in his left had, to the emergency stairway. He had to get to Sephiroth now, he was sure the man was in trouble even while he knew it was just an irrational feeling.

He remembered well when he had first seen General Sephiroth close by. He still hadn't felt entirely comfortable in his new uniform, though he had been wanting and waiting half of his life to get it. The smell of the parade ground had been getting to his newly sharpened senses, dull dust and boot polish, polluted air and motor oil. General Sephiroth was a legend in his own time, the Demon of Wutai, the Silver General, but the tales or even the pictures hadn't readied him to see a man so willow and beautiful, almost like a girl. They certainly hadn't readied him to meet a man so hopelessly baffled by all unofficial, normal human interaction. No one had known of Sephiroth's origins and wild rumours had circulated about him being a living experiment, the first prorotype of a new super Soldier race, created in a tube by the disreputable Professor Hojo. He had come to know the urban legend wasn't that far off the mark.

He felt responsible for the man, in ways that had nothing to do with the chain of command or, Tyr forbid, pity because the proud super Soldier despised pity and Zack didn't blame him for it. He felt responsible because he had taken the responsibility of introducing the man to the concept of fun and relaxing and above all normal and humanity. The feeling had just kept spreading, even though he knew just how much General Sephiroth was capable of taking care of himself, and so he felt a little silly when he found Sephiroth's room empty. Of course he wouldn't have just slept through it all, headache or not.

But then, where was the man? Down there fighting the fire? Or more likely, the ones that had started it.

He tried to go back down and prayed to any and all gods that might be listening that Sephiroth had already gotten out.

* * *

Sephiroth had issues about his species. He wasn't sure what he was, exactly, but his otherness was obvious; no Soldier was quite so strong, none's senses so sharp. For him that was par of the course as well as his unique endurance and preternatural strength. He had managed to fool himself for years, but the instincts were what had finally clued him in that no amount of Mako, even when infused before birth, could do that to a man. The way he often felt phantom limbs stretching for example, connected to his back. He didn't like the feeling as it reminded him of Angeal and Genesis' deterioration and madness.

(His senses weren't what they had been at their peak in the laboratory, what they could be, much to Hojo's bewilderment and frustration. Sephiroth had repressed much of his true abilities once he left the laboratory and realized how leery it made people of him, a useless attempt to be more human.)

The steps of his companion followed him faithfully through the laboratory. The pull was relentless now, the inhuman, aching need for (progenitor/queen/completion of the cycle) things he couldn't name. The fire was pulling strings at the back of his mind, the heat and destruction making his self-preservation instinct kick in, but he couldn't leave (queen) the thing in the tank, swimming in midnight blue. He tried to get closer, but something was blocking his way, smooth and unyielding, but transparent, teasing him with what he couldn't reach. Glass. It was glass. How could he have forgotten that?

"Let me in," he asked. It had no effect as the (queen) figure didn't react at all. But she was still calling for him, he knew that much. He thought he might have been feeling it on a cellular level. It was like his body was shaking into pieces with impatience under the blind, milky, beautiful gaze.

He heard running steps from far behind, but he also heard the one that had helped him turn and take cover, heard the click of his gun and didn't worry. He knew he could trust the younger man to protect his back, if only he could figure out what to do before the fire reached them.

The stench of Mako also put him to an edge, always tied in his mind with pain or monsters or both. But there were more interesting things to smell, too.

(His sense of smell was in fact so good he could taste, so related to smelling, the emotions of people in the air. Details and the senseless reasons behind them often escaped him, but the basics of fear, hurt, aggression, lust, hunger and contentment he recognized without an error, like any beast could. All memories of this he had also pulled into the unconscious.)

He (smelt) somehow knew that there was fear in Cloud's mind, quite sensible fear of the fire and the approaching enemy. There hadn't been fear before, so they weren't enemies. There was aggression so he was ready to fight for him, that made the man, Cloud, his ally. And underlying, but ever present there was lust. Right then it made perfect sense. Of course he was the best option possible, the strongest and most capable and in the best position to apply his power. And Cloud's suggestion that he should do just so had been perfectly sensible. Why hadn't he killed the infuriating man, weak with spider-thin limbs and soft muscles? Luckily the man was in the room, caught by Cloud, so he could correct his error. Cloud was very thoughtful and also quite attractive. If only he could (complete the cycle) do the frustrating something first so they could get out from the base and he could do something about this revelation.

Like his body sometimes tried to move in ways it wasn't built for when he was tired or preoccupied enough to forget, now it sensed something it never had before: Lifestream was shifting under their feet, pooling towards them until it felt like the base was only one tiny earthquake from collapsing into it. Often the Lifestream shifted away from the reactors, but this was exactly the opposite. Something was reaching for his mind, whispers of fear/retribution/forgiveness/sadness/memories, like hundreds of tiny colourful birds flying through his skull. The reactor was overloading, he realized. Just like he recognized the sudden flash of magic behind himself, Ice being cast. Very sensible. If only he could get past the glass.

He had to break it! Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? He raised his sword, but then there was pain and he fell through red and gray to soft, calming, blessed darkness.

* * *

The love Veld felt for his daughter was honest and true. The bright, joyous Felicia of his happier days, all that was left of his beloved Fiona, the cunning and strong woman he had come to respect that went by Elfé. She had been a big part of why he had agreed to betray the self he had created of himself, protecting Elfé from Shin-Ra's non-existing mercies. But still, she hadn't been the only reason.

One of his own had been hurt. Whatever differences of origins and personality might incidentally separate them, the Turks were bound inextricably together; the personage were always protected against all outside threats. A deliberate attack on one was an attack against them all. This was what held them together in their bloody, paranoid way of life. In his heart Veld had felt the pain, rage, terror his old partner had surely felt and that was all he needed to know, to understand.

Professional killers weren't generally known for forgiveness and he had none to offer.

"How did you know of the Tsviets if they were only collected after you were… captured and changed?" That hadn't been what he had really wanted to know.

"I didn't know of them specifically. Deepground is older than Tsviets, remember." Vincent hadn't called him on it. He was grateful.

He'd had an unofficial truce with the Science Department. The Turks had aided and abetted, assisted the man in getting test subjects. It had been easier for Hojo during a war when he could always nab a Soldier or a regular from some small, faraway outpost and write them off as killed or missing in action, but when the war ended he needed help from the Turks and Veld had made him pay well. But no payment could have been worth this, and all the time he had been in cahoots with the scientist Vincent had been in coma in a coffin. Veld had fantasies of killing Hojo slowly, by stabbing him to death with a pocket knife starting from toes.

But while he may have had deserted the ranks of the Turks he still had ties there also and that was what kept him from outright shooting Reno when the man stumbled on him in the dark. Wisely, the younger man hadn't tried to fight him.

"I surrender," he had said much more meekly than was usual for the cocky readhead. Veld had knocked him unconscious and taken the young Turk with him. He wasn't stupid.

They got out, both suffering from severe smoke poisoning for sure and Veld didn't even want to consider how they would escape from all the soldiers and Soldiers that were surely swarming all over the snowy plains. He had barely taken ten whole steps from the building when all thought of that momentarily fled his mind, stopping him like a drunk man who didn't remember which leg he was about to move next. He was coughing and didn't even reach for his Materia to heal his lungs.

There was an explosion somewhere down below their feet; the sound was distant and muffled. The same disquieting feeling that always filled him near the Lifestream shot through his spine like electricity. And he felt better. He hadn't even realised how difficult it had been to breath until now when it wasn't.

The ground under his feet was twisting and trembling like a living being and warmth radiated though his boots, melting the snow under his eyes. The ground that was revealed was first gray and brown and soon baby green, delicate and beautiful. It was grass under his feet, and small white and pink flowers and twisting ferns so small he hardly recognized them, life all around. He had never believed in Gaia, in the hippie psychbabble his daughter so revered. The environmental issues were hard science, nothing more. He couldn't smell the green, wet, stubborn life from the stench of chemicals and fire that still numbed his sinuses, but a sensory memory attacked him without a warning, of Fiona's garden full of roses and lilies and practical carrots, and at moment like that it was almost possible to believe in the Goddess.

He shook himself out of it, of course. Much quicker than any soldier, with or without the capital letter.

* * *

AN: There was Fire 3!


	32. Interlude VII: Sephiroth

**Interlude VII: Sephiroth**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

He raised his sword, but then there was pain and he fell through red and gray to soft, calming, blessed darkness. But in the darkness there were memories.

As long as he could remember he had known that the soldiers would come to take him with them one day, but during the long, agonizing weeks of Mako therapy that time seemed to be as close as the Moon: the average centre-to-centre distance from the Planet to the Moon was 384,403 km. One step a time, he thought and bore yet another injection and hour in the Mako tube. Breathe through it, it's only pain. It will end if you wait long enough.

He was a private person, but not body shy; he'd never had the luxury to become one as the scientists' purpose in life seemed to be to figure him out from outside in and inside out. As long as he could remember there had been a quiet conviction that he was not human like the rest of the people in the laboratory. His senses were sharper than the scientists remembered to be wary of, he could hear them whispering of breakthrough and outstanding results, reflexes and brain chemistry and Mako absorption rates.

He was five. He was taught sword fighting and martial arts. _Lunge; push the front heel out by extending the front leg from the knee. Do not bend the front ankle, or lift up on the ball of the front foot. Drop a hand to the floor and lower the body under the opponent's oncoming blade. In martial arts, eight classic stances, axe kick, crescent kick, blocks and strikes until he could do it in his dreams. _

A few of the scientists would make evil warding signs with their fingers in the shadows of the room and mutter about breaking the laws of the nature and gods, but they never stayed for long. Sephiroth knew them by smell, the details and the incomprehensible reasons behind them often escaped him, but he knew their want for results when they attached the electrodes into him, hunger and hurt when they forgot to take proper care of themselves – how anyone could he had no idea yet, his own meals and workout sessions being carefully regulated. He knew their elation when they succeeded, the bitter tang of disappointment when he wasn't living up to their expectations, at times a different kind of want when a member of opposite gender walked by or spoke to them, heavy and intense. And their fear of Professor Hojo he recognized without an error. This was how he knew them.

He was six. Artillery tactics. _A __lifting barrage__ was a development in which the barrage lifted periodically to a target further back, such as a second line of trenches. A __creeping barrage,__ also called a __walking barrage,__ was a barrage that lifted in small increments, keeping pace with the infantry._

Gast Faremis was the only one who wasn't scared of Hojo: he was the head of Shin-Ra's Science Research Department and therefore Hojo's superior. But Hojo was his father and that seemed to give him some rights over Sephiroth in addition to the fact that he had contributed half of his genes; he often heard Hojo argue with Faremis over him and the tests and treatments that were performed on him. He is only three years old and that is too young, his body can't take it, he would say, and four and five and six as time passed. He was never old enough for Hojo to do what he did, but if Hojo couldn't have his way officially he did so unofficially.

Infantry tactics. Jungle warfare. _Many of guerilla tactics revolved around the "hit and run" attacks, involving a small group ambushing a larger force, only to withdraw minutes later._ _Small bodies of soldiers, equipped with small arms and explosives, rigorously trained in guerrilla warfare-style tactics, particularly in close-quarter combat. _

Ifalna was beautiful, but sad. She was also constantly scared and Sephiroth's body would begin to produce more adrenalin on instinct whenever she would step into the same room with him, but he still preferred her company to that of the scientists, even Faremis'. She never caused him any pain or expected anything of him. Once she touched his face and told him with a trembling voice that she was sorry, but she didn't tell for what. He wondered about it sometimes.

He was seven. Materia. _Fire and Ice and Gravity and Haste, Stop and Heal and Cure and Bolt, every spell one by one and only the highest levels were acceptable. _Management. _Management comprises planning, organizing, staffing, leading or directing, and controlling a group of one or more people or entities, or effort for the purpose of accomplishing a goal._ _Strategy is not planning in the sense of working through a to-do list, it requires quick and appropriate responses to changing conditions. Planning works in a controlled environment, but in a competitive environment, competing plans collide, creating unexpected situations. _

Then neither Faremis nor Ifalna was seen again and the laboratory was moved to Junon. Sephiroth knew that Hojo had killed them, or had them killed, like he knew that he was being groomed to be a professional killer one day.

He was little sad he wouldn't see Ifalna any more, but that was it. Being raised as a test subject and a prototype by scientists using technically illegal means, for all Shin-Ra was almighty in the Eastern Continent and much of Western already, to gather knowledge and using it to gain power didn't do much to give a person good grasp of ethics or even what was socially acceptable. He was to be a general and he was to kill and conquer for Shin-Ra, that was all there was to his part of the deal.

The first laboratory had been located in small town called Nibelheim, near Mt. Nibel reactor, which was the only landmark worth mentioning. Sephiroth was told later in life by a drunken laboratory assistant in Shin-Ra fundraising event, a middle-aged woman with black hair and blue-tinted glasses, that he used to have an imaginary friend, though imaginary mother might have been a better term. When he had been moved to Junon he had been heavily drugged through the whole transportation, Shin-Ra being afraid he might have tried to run away, and that added to the Mako and enhancing drug cocktail in his blood might have contributed to forgetting it. Sephiroth's memory was eidetic, phenomenal. He wasn't used to forgetting things.

But forgotten he had when he was given an army to command and an order to conquer Wutai and other independent Western regions. He was fourteen years old.

A letter from the draft board,  
Put pain to all your dreams.  
You're just another number  
In military schemes.  
They marched you in a uniform  
You wore against your will.  
With lies of hope and glory,  
They taught you how to kill.

* * *

AN: As you can see he ended up being downright normal when compared to where he started.

The lyrics are from After the War by Gary Moore. I don't own.


	33. Chapter XXV: Smoke on the water

**Chapter XX****V: Smoke on the water**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

What is anarchy like? It is when one has no rulership or enforced authority. A realist might describe it as the absence of government; a state of lawlessness due to the absence or inefficiency of a supreme power, leading to political disorder. An idealist might talk of a social state in which there is no governing person or group of persons, but each individual has absolute liberty, a society free from coercive authority of any kind, which is the goal of proponents of the political philosophy of anarchism, after all.

The Turks are anything but idealists. Anarchy was no different from chaos to them. It is a dog eat dog world for them, a merciless place where the complete lack of any kind of control could not only lead to a critical threat to the health, safety, security and well being of people, but the only authority in place was that of he-who-has-the-biggest-gun-or-muscles. Overthrowing the questionably legal government, Veld had said and Vincent had agreed, was only acceptable if one had something to replace it with.

The general consensus in Avalanche might not accept what they were about to do, but they didn't have to ever find out. Veld wouldn't divulge the secret that was not killing Sephiroth for the official reason, but Vincent wouldn't tell for that reason and one of his own; he also had a feeling that Cloud also had reasons of his own if the way he had hovered over Sephiroth was any indication, and Shelke wouldn't tell for his sake, though that brought on an entirely new batch of difficulties. A can of worms he had no desire to open.

* * *

The light was a peculiar gray shade just before the sun would rise - something of a false dawn. It wasn't exactly quiet when he had awakened, the sound of an airship motor, rattling metal under leather and his skull that made his jaw vibrate ever so slightly and three voices, one feminine and two masculine, talking about Reeve and Scarlet and Junon, something about Midgar and Weiss was mentioned with hushed whispers. He was lying on a rather uncomfortable leather seat, too small for a man as tall as he was, but at least he was under some kind of cover. Why was he lying in an airship?

He had awakened in places he didn't remember getting into before: medics tent in Wutai a few times, and in the jungle more than once, covered in wounds that had stopped bleeding and surrounded by bodies covered in dirty colored flies when one too many crises had imploded at once. Overall, he preferred this experience. Nonetheless, with peacetime came an expectation that he would not wake up in strange places or at least would know what might have happened to put him in his current predicament; for a moment he went very, very still, every sense at high alert and straining for clues. And everything returned to him, like clockwork.

He was cold and aching, but forced himself not to move; he was sure that he was being watched - he could feel the prickling heat of a steady gaze on his neck. Hot, churning rage pooled in his stomach, slow burn and Sephiroth couldn't help the twitch of his fingers. He had never really trusted the mad scientist, knowing the ambitious, unscrupulous man much too well and painfully for that, but he hadn't expected this. The sting of one more betrayal and loss of control was bitter. He couldn't remember ever having been out of control like that before, not with rage or fear, but confusion and instincts of a sort he preferred not to acknowledge. But once something has been learned, it can never been un-learned, only forgotten, and now the memories were flowing back, of the cruel, tempting whispers of his childhood. Of devouring all life, of destroying the world and leaving it in flames, taking and making it part of THEM and journeying through the sweet black, the clean-cold of space; it had been his MOTHER that he had seen—the one no one would tell him about.

He wasn't human. He had known of course, but having it thrown to his face like this...it was different, much worse.

He opened his eyes and sat up, quickly taking in the sparse cabin, with its minimalistic sheen of steel and five brown leather seats, only one of which was occupied besides his own. Cloud Strife, in a dark green coat that was open to reveal black clothes along with a formidable looking gun strapped to his back. Another coat, a red one, had been spread over Sephiroth himself. He had been stripped of his sword, but he wasn't worried. Strife was so near he could break the boy's neck before he could even touch his gun.

"We're crossing the Gulf right now, bringing you back to Midgar, or near it. Uh, sorry about the sword, but we wanted to talk, not fight you the second you woke up. We'll give it back. And there's something you really should know about what Weiss has done, because chances are that Midgar is falling into panic and anarchy right now and you are needed to keep things from getting totally out of hand," his captor babbled. Strife's face was completely open, his big, blue eyes honest, if a little sheepish and a lot worried, his voice apologetic. Against all sense and reason, Sephiroth felt less threatened.

"Weiss the Immaculate?" He didn't need to have to deal with the crazed Tsviet leader - that should have been put out of his misery years ago - on _top_ of the turn his life had taken the night before, but he had a nagging feeling that he should listen to this. He pushed the red coat from his lap and stood up, holding his head high.

"We believe that Reeve and Scarlet in Junon are the only Shin-Ra high ups that are still alive." Strife didn't sound all that sorry when he said that. And he launched into a remarkably debriefing-like, compact explanation of how Shelke the Transparent had defected when she had seen his father, whom she seemed to know somehow, and what she had told them of Professor Hojo's plans and the deal he had made with the Tsviets.

The Jenova Project, a series of experiments orchestrated by the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company in an attempt to make a human hybrid with the alien creature Jenova, whom Shin-Ra had mistakenly believed to be an Ancient, Hojo not correcting them or allowing Gast Faremis to do so. Because that had been Hojo's plan, to let the menace loose on the unsuspecting Planet. Hojo had directly injected its cells into a human fetus in its mother's womb. Lucrecia's womb. His mother's name was Lucrecia, not Jenova! And when the original Jenova had been destroyed in an attack by an unknown party, Hojo had come up with a new plan. To clone Jenova, to trigger the Reunion and allow the clone to absorb as many infected hosts as Hojo could provide, starting with Sephiroth, so that it might become sentient.

And then there was Weiss the Immaculate murdering the board in Midgar while they had been talking, as well.

The boy's voice shook at this point, his knuckles white. The voices from the cockpit had quieted and he could feel the eyes on them, guarding him, watching over their own. It was a good thing; Sephiroth didn't trust himself with the boy's life and health right now. Cloud was tapping the floor with his right boot, completely oblivious. The deep, cool sea below them was briefly tempting, calling for him with promise of peace, all it would take was to acquire the boy's gun and make one last Fire spell.

But Sephiroth of no surname he would answer to was a survivor above everything else. He could never take his own life.

There were no guarantees that Cloud Strife was telling him the truth, of course. In fact, it was in his best interest to turn Sephiroth against Shin-Ra. Still, as he watched Cloud finger a red, ornamental bracelet on his left wrist and offer another Heal (because he had been looking pale and Cloud was politely ignoring the way he was slightly losing his composure), he didn't believe so. It was his heartbeat, the way his eyes didn't make the little telltale shift of a liar, the way he smelt that shouted innocence - or in the worst case, ignorance.

The way he smelt. The relentless pull, the inhuman, aching need for things he couldn't name, some kind of satisfaction or unity...it was like a dream slipping through his fingers as fast as he tried to recall the details. But there was something he could remember without a problem: his decision to do something about, to _claim_ Avalanche member Cloud Strife like he was his to claim, because of a temporary insanity that had made him think so. Because Strife had smelled like lust, had thoughtfully captured Hojo, and looked attractive. What had he been thinking?

What was he thinking now? He knew next to nothing about the boy, other than his politic-ecologic ideology, his bravery and irrational worry about Sephiroth's safety. He didn't even know how old, or young, the boy was. That didn't stop him from wanting.

"I'm not a human being," he whispered with an intensity all dreaded hearing from him, certain there was nothing the boy pretending to understand him could say to that. Platitudes would be empty, pity insulting, denial a sign of foolishness.

"Well, if you aren't, then neither is my father anymore! Or Red, and he's as gentle as they come. I don't care, because you're still a person, right? Humanity isn't the begin all, end all. Just look at Hojo, he was a human, but he was also a complete monster."

Acceptance. Not uncaring, simply total acceptance delivered without a moment's hesitation. His father. Sephiroth idly wondered which of the terrorists that was and what that meant anymore, or who was this Red, and now it was _he _who couldn't come up with anything to say to the blond boy.

"If your father isn't a human, wouldn't that make you half-human at the very least?" was the best he could come up with, some detached, rational part of him latching onto the fact that Cloud hadn't included himself on the list. Cloud shrugged casually and shifted a little closer to him on the floor.

"Technically, he's only my stepfather, but genetics are really overrated. Love makes a family." He smelt completely honest and at ease so near him, the confessed inhuman enemy general. He also smelt like dirty smoke; his sensory memory provided him with the name nitromethane, sharp gunpowder, angry adrenalin and below it all, pine-scented soap tangled with the ghost of lust, not present now. His senses hadn't been this sharp since he had become a general. He used to desire for humanity. Now he was merely tired, anger having given way to bone-deep weariness and detachment in the space of a heartbeat.

A human being: a member of a species of bipedal primates in the family Hominidae. Human genetics describes the study of inheritance as it occurs in human beings. Study of human genetics answers questions about human nature, understanding the diseases and development of effective disease treatment, and understanding the genetics of human life; that was what being human had always been to him. Either you were genetically a human, or you weren't a human at all, for all that Zack and Angeal (and on one memorably bad night - the man Genesis had been before deterioration had driven him to madness) had insisted it was about being a person. The flame lions of Cosmo Canyon were people, but most definitely not human, and there was even a bit of speculation about the intelligence and possible sentience of dragons. He hadn't ever voiced his argument that being a person didn't alone make you human. And now he found himself wondering.

If he had, would Zack or Angeal have told him that being human wasn't the point of it?

"You know, I'm pretty sure that Hojo's dead," Cloud said after a while. It made him feel a little better. His father was dead now too; he would rather be an orphan anyway.

"And are you aware that nitromethane is a carcinogen?" he asked after another silence and made Cloud blink. He gestured towards the green Materia and of course Cloud got it wrong, casting the spell on Sephiroth.

* * *

Cloud touched Sephiroth's hand briefly just before they landed on the green, peaceful hills near Kalm. He hadn't dared to hug the man like he would have liked, for all that he just had no words, the mood of the silver-haired man had changed far beyond the point where he would have accepted the full-body contact he had engaged in Firefrost One – maybe because he had done so there. But he couldn't let the man just walk away feeling like he did, so he grabbed his hand and held it firmly for exactly four seconds before letting go. Sephiroth's body was still much warmer than his own, he noticed.

Vincent had left the cockpit once, just standing there and staring at Sephiroth with eyes that made Cloud's heart ache before turning sharply back; Shelke had appeared briefly and given her personal debriefing, but most of the duration of the flight he had been alone with Sephiroth, with the illusion of privacy. Their conversation had been fitful, unsure, but the man hadn't had a nervous breakdown and Cloud would have liked to credit himself with that.

He hoped he wasn't getting big-headed. Maybe it was only Sephiroth being resilient.

"Tell your friends I'm sorry about giving them a shock like this," he said over the noise of the motor, pretty sure that even his father couldn't hear him now. Sephiroth raised one eyebrow regally. Cloud had never figured out how to raise just one and he felt briefly envious of the range of expression it gave to the older man. Then he felt silly.

"Somebody must have been worried when you just disappeared like that," he explained, and now Sephiroth's eyes widened as his hand snaked to his belt, searching for something that wasn't there. His PHS must have dropped sometime during their mad dash out of the burning army base.

"I assume I'm in for quite a stern talking-to from Zack," he said wryly and Cloud couldn't help the small answering grin at his words. This was good, better than good. Sudden warmth had invaded Sephiroth's speech; it was unexpected gentleness behind the untouchable, intimidating front, like a lion retracting his claws and now Cloud felt a brief impulse to go looking for Zack Fair and hug him.

But all good things must come to an end. The airship, called the Cetra, landed with a clumsy thump and Cloud had to grab a hold of the wall to prevent falling. Kalm was only a few valleys away and far, far behind it loomed the dark cloud that shrouded Midgar's silhouette, like a giant dressed in dirty black. This was when Cloud panicked; he hadn't said anything to Sephiroth yet! He couldn't confess, he would just die of embarrassment, but better chance of finding out how the Silver General saw him would likely never come. But he hesitated too long and the choice was made for him.

"Good bye," Sephiroth said so silently, Cloud barely made out the words. Then he adjusted Masamune, strapped it to his back again and jumped off the ship.

Cloud remained at the door and stared after him. He was tall and cool and beautiful, tragic and dressed as black as coal. Cloud was very glad Sephiroth hadn't asked anything of him, because right then he felt that if he'd asked him to, he would even commit murder. Then the door shut with a clang and solid gray replaced the green hills of the idyllic village in the distance and the man walking towards it. Disappointment was bitter on his tongue and he slumped forward; for all he knew, to expect anything different would have been foolishness. He heard his father's steps approaching from behind.

"Don't be sad, Cloud." He didn't want to know how much his father knew. Thank Gaia father really didn't seem to disapprove all that much. He frowned as he remembered that there was something he wanted to know and he didn't think there would be a better time to ask. He turned around to look into his father's deep red eyes.

"He is Lucrecia's son, but who was the…" he asked, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. Because if they were stepbrothers that would be creepier than he was comfortable with.

"He is Lucrecia's son," father said and pain flitted over his face. "...and Hojo's." Cloud flinched.

"It has been a long time. And I love your mother now," Vincent cut through Cloud's apologies. He turned to go to the cockpit as the airship rose from the ground again, shaking and clanking, but Cloud stayed behind, not wanting to share his thoughts with anyone. He let his eyes close and abandoned reality for the ephemeral taste of maybe, what if, might be. He was so tired; he was halfway into dreams already.

The door creaked open and steps advanced towards him. Cloud opened his eyes to the sight of the small girl in a strange, blue-greyish suit that seemed like a cross between a jumpsuit and a spacesuit. From up close, her hair was closer to pale orange than red and her eyes were rather pale too, as if faded by age. Now they were burning with an intensity that made Cloud's pulse jump, startled, and a metallic taste rose to his tongue. He knew just what the girl-woman wanted of him.

"Tell me about your mother," Shelke demanded and Cloud closed his eyes in horror. He did not want to have this conversation.

* * *

What is oligarchy like? It is a form of government where power effectively rests with a small elite segment of society distinguished by royalty, wealth, family, military influence or all of the above; theirs was a government controlled by politically powerful families whose children were heavily conditioned and mentored to be heirs of that power. That they were also crony capitalists in an allegedly capitalist economy in which success in business depended on close relationships between businesspeople and Shin-Ra officials.

This was the twilight of Shin-Ra; the company could survive, but not as it was now. Weiss the Immaculate had been taken down eventually, at the cost of many Soldiers and troopers, as had Azul the Cerulean, but President Shin-Ra was dead, as was his son and the whole board with three exceptions. Scarlet Abbiss and Reeve Tuesti had been in Junon that fateful day, and General Sephiroth been sent away to Icicle Area.

Sephiroth might or might not declare himself Shin-Ra's military dictator; although she did not intend to resist him if he chose to do so, Scarlet liked to have a contingency plan for every possibility, however unlikely. Just in case Avalanche took advantage of the situation and somehow came out at the top, she had to have something to offer to them. She had her life and wealth to defend and Reeve as well, who was a good man, but not nearly ruthless enough for what times like these demanded. And while Marlene Wallace might have been the ideal hostage, she had remembered she might have something just as good, if only the man hadn't died by now. The Desert Prison was a dangerous place to do time.

She clicked open Dyne Fargo's file and smiled in relief, then smugly, like a cat that had gotten the canary.

"Bingo," she whispered and raked her long, ruby red nails over the lines on the screen. Now they would both be just fine.

* * *

AN: And the big romance is suspended again. Damn you, realism!


	34. Chapter XXVI: Awkward conversations

**Chapter XXVI: Awkward conversations**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

The bar nearest to Avalanche Island was in a fisher village named Sinensis. The fishermen weren't asking any questions or telling tales about the strange people that at times came to the village to buy supplies and so it was used as trading place much more often than Fabaceae even though it was so small. It was a tiny place with only one street, flanked with small houses greyish with age, and the wharfs and boathouses were in much better condition than anything unintended for human residency, except for the said bar. It was a homely little place mostly lit by the fireplace and very clean despite the cigarette smoke, much to Piekna's joy. They had just had their first ciders, and Cloud's body felt pleasantly heavy-limbed and mellow, relaxed. It was a pity he was going to have to kill the mood.

"Piekna? I've thought about something," Cloud stated and glanced at Piekna from the corner of his eye. She looked at him and offered a pleased smile, making Cloud felt like a heel for what he was about to do. But there was no way he was going to be able to convince himself to love her now, so stringing her along would have been a far worse thing to do.

"Shoot. No pun intended," she jested, but her smile was dwindling in the face of his expression.

"I think you might have a crush on me or like me. I mean, I don't want to presume or anything! But just in case, well… I think of you as a best friend, but not like that." He said it quickly, wanting it to be over as soon as possible.

Everything was made worse by the fact that he honestly, truly loved Piekna as a friend. She was kind and fun, the kind of person that stuck by you no matter what, and she was the first real friend his age he had made. There had been friendly acquaintances before her, like Jens in Keflavik and Nuelle in that dojo in Junon, but his family had always moved on too soon for him to really get close to anyone. Now he was hurting her and he could do nothing to help it. At least, he thought dryly, this was nothing compared to the conversation his poor father was going to have with Shelke. Misery loved company, it seemed.

"Do you think you could like me like that one day?" Piekna asked, worrying a small, black lock of her hair between her fingertips and smiled very convincingly. There was timid hope in her voice, but even that he would have to crush.

"Not really. It's not that you aren't beautiful or kind or clever, but I think that I'm probably a gay. Bisexual at the least." This was the first time he had said it aloud, and it felt strange to his ears, but also official. He liked men like that, and now it was really sinking in for the first time. Not that he had ever thought of homosexuals as sexual deviants or anything, but it required some reassessment about himself. He wasn't heterosexual, wasn't the widely accepted norm.

And he was technically a terrorist, even if he was right about his stance against Shin-Ra. To Múspell with socially acceptable.

"So, is there someone special?" Piekna's voice was wavering, but her encouraging smile was firmly in place. Cloud imagined how he would feel if Sephiroth said that there would never be a chance and his respect for her skyrocketed.

"Kind of. I'm not really ready to talk about it yet." Technically it wasn't a lie, or only a lie of omission, but it didn't make him feel any better about this either.

"Ah. Well, I guess I get to be your fag hag now. We'll go out together and talk about boys once you're ready and I'll give you fashion tips." Now she was blinking rapidly, hiding her face in the shadows, and Cloud ignored it politely, choosing to empty his glass and ask for another instead. He didn't think Piekna wanted him to see how bad this hurt. He couldn't _not_ see, but at the very least, he could pretend.

* * *

The sunrise had been rather unremarkable, hidden behind heavy, polluted clouds, and the setting sun wasn't much better. There was no storm or anything to highlight the dramatic change the last few days had brought. Shin-Ra was no more, or at least not as the company had been. Sephiroth was far from blind to the nuances of power; right now, he was all that stood between the Shin-Ra conquered world and a long series of civil wars. He had the unquestioned authority that leading an army gave; it was a matter of whether he chose to use that power or not.

Looking away from the blue light of the computer screen, he stared out the windows of his office to the world outside. The rainy, chilly shade of late summer grey, told of the last weeks before the autumn frost would come. Not that there were any true seasons in Midgar, since there was not one speck of new green leaves or the red and gold of autumn leaves to judge by. Except for one place, an abandoned church where the stained glass windows and the smell of earth hid the lover of his only friend. He was forced to admit that he'd enjoyed the one brief trip he had made to the church to survey the situation, the smell of living, growing things and the feel of soft ground under his boots. The feeling of life that the rest of Midgar lacked.

He could go down there without endangering her now, to see the delicate, bold flowers. Hojo was no more and Aeris Gainsborough was safe. Also, Zack was there to enjoy this newly found freedom and he wanted, _needed,_ advice on what to do about Cloud Strife. As Aeris was free, so was he, but he had no idea what to do with the freedom now that it had been thrust upon him.

He was familiar with wishing for things without deceiving himself that attaining them was possible even while he worked towards them. This was not.

And so, he went down to the pond to check out a company car, startling the unwary, half-asleep trooper in guard duty. He could have taken his bike or simply walked, but he felt no desire to be recognized right now. While the jet black car might attract unwanted attention below the plate, at least the one-sided windows would spare him from the fawning and thinly veiled hostility many felt underplate. At times he contemplated cutting his hair; sometimes it made him too easily recognizable.

Little light shone from the church's windows, dyed red, green, and golden. He could hear a female voice singing through the door, singing and the sound of someone playing guitar rather badly. He supposed that Aeris didn't mind; Zack had once told him that as long as man could play three notes straight, a woman in love would think the world of them. He called out for them, hesitant to bother them when they were together and relaxed at last, but when Zack half marched, half skipped to greet him, the grin threatened to split the man's face in half and Aeris, following Zack with more grace and dignity, beamed at him with equal sincerity.

"I would like to have your opinion on a dilemma I have found myself in," he asked as Zack ushered him inside the chapel and Aeris disappeared in the shadows mumbling about sweets. He always became formal when he wasn't sure of himself. It was an effect of his years in Shin-Ra; people there were not big on admitting when they had no idea what they were doing.

"Be my guest, Sephy. But really, what could be more of a headache than your new paper load, and pretty please don't ask me to help with that, unless it's a lady problem?" Zack smirked and gave him a friendly punch. His irreverent friend was merely teasing him, like so many times before, but this time it was eerily close to the mark. He took a deep breath and pushed, pushed, _pushed _ingrained habits away.

"Not exactly. My problem is an Avalanche gunman named Cloud Strife. I have noticed that I have a strange fondness for him." The way Zack's jaw dropped, Sephiroth decided, was very satisfying.

"Uh, this sounds like a long, interesting story you didn't include in the explanation that I managed to get out of you," he eventually managed, and sat down on one of the safest benches. Tiny, white flowers were climbing up its legs like very fine lace. Sephiroth sat beside him, mindful of the flowers.

"Cloud was in Firefrost One and was the one to save me from the fire, I told you this much. However, in my more… primal, raw state I recognized that I felt lust for him and that he felt at least the same, though his concern for my wellbeing suggests for more. After I had reached a more composed state of mind, I had to admit that I am also fond of him. Now I am at freedom to further my chances with him by negotiating with Avalanche, but isn't this a very selfish train of thought?" He had decided that he wanted to make something of the opportunity presented to him, only the very thought almost made him squirm with guilt.

"In your alien brainwashed state, you mean. Wait a second! Did he actually confess to you?" He He flashed back toCloud's determined, but almost painfully shy face, fine and fair, almost girly. No, he hadn't confessed, but he couldn't have pretended to save his life either.

"No, I could smell it on him," he admitted reluctantly. An old, half-forgotten fear raised its ugly head again; if the reminder of how different from humans Sephiroth was finally became too much, he didn't know if he could learn to ignore Zack's fear. He knew he should trust more by now, but his breath hitched so hard it hurt.

"Huh? Didn't know you could do that," Zack said and gave him a mock-hurt look, " Should spare you from any embarrassing misunderstandings we lowly mortals suffer from." There was genuine bewilderment, but no apprehension buried under the light-hearted lilt of his second's voice.

"Sounds like pheromones. That is so fascinating!" Sephiroth was well used to hands grabbing him and tugging him along from his close proximity to Zack, so he didn't know why he was so surprised that Zack's girlfriend was the same. He didn't try to resist, even though her skin made his itch and tingle in a way that reminded him of Firefrost; the thought made his stomach turn, but he let her drag him over to the blanket she had laid next to a bare flowerbed and pushed him down with both small hands on his shoulders. He wasn't quite sure how he came to be holding a plate of candied apples.

Aeris was dressed in pale rose pink, her face even more open than Cloud's. She was like some ethereal spirit emerging from a field of flowers in the dim church and Sephiroth was reminded of the rumours of how Hojo had managed to either find or clone a Cetra. He hadn't believed the outlandish rumours before, but there had to be some reason the man had been so intent on getting Aeris alive and her green eyes were shifting and captivating, like small windows to the Lifestream itself.

Sephiroth didn't like the colour green; it reminded him of nothing but Hojo and pain, of Mako dripping from a needle and shimmering inside a tank, but her eyes almost made him change his mind.

"Aggregation pheromones function in defense against predators, mate selection, and overcoming host resistance by mass attack. Or maybe it was releaser pheromones; they're powerful attractant molecules that some organisms may use to attract mates from a distance of two miles or more. You know, there have been a few scientific studies published suggesting the possibility of pheromones in humans. The research suggests a possible role for human pheromones in the biological basis of sexual orientation. It's perfectly natural, except humans usually can't consciously smell them," her voice chirped cheerily on.

"Ms. Gainsborough, please_,_" Sephiroth protested, a little pained. "I have had enough of being treated as a laboratory specimen to last a lifetime." She couldn't have known of course, but the scientific jargon and the words, "humans usually can't," weren't a good combination.

He wasn't human or normal; he was just like all those rumors had painted him: other, uninvited, a monster. Except Cloud didn't think so, and neither did Zack.

"I'm sorry I gave that impression, Sephiroth. I was talking about nature. Isn't She the most glorious deity there is, the Mother of us all?" Aeris' voice was suitably chastised, but her smile was still bold and wondrous. Much to his surprise, Sephiroth found that he believed her.

"Anyway, back to the business. Weren't you agreeing with Reeve on the long-term effects of the Mako reactors and President Shin-Ra being a greedy idiot anyway? Business and pleasure can mix from time to time, you know," Zack interrupted them, his voice lecturing and his big, grey eyes worried. He was probably worried that Sephiroth might decide not to indulge himself and was employing logic, a rare enough instance for the wild-haired man.

"You think I should negotiate with Avalanche?" He wanted to and Zack knew it now. Maybe his loyal friend's opinion wasn't all that impartial, but he wanted to be convinced so badly it hurt.

"Negotiate away and don't do anything you wouldn't do without Cloud existing. Not that you don't deserve a little bit of self-indulgence after all the crap Shin-Ra and Hojo put you through, but you couldn't live with yourself later then. And if Cloud is still sweet on you afterwards, go for it! You only live once, you know." Like it was easy. For most people it would have been, but he just didn't _get_ people. He could pretend well some days, but his upbringing had done some irreparable interpersonal damage, and it wasn't just his brains being too different from a normal human's.

At least now he knew he was most likely capable of feeling love; he had been worried for a while since no one had managed to catch his interest. He wanted Cloud Strife; he might even love the boy, though it was hard to be sure since he had no empiric data on how a genetically normal human being experienced love. He remembered the boy from Cosmo Canyon that had resembled a wet puppy, a hostage willing enough to have a civilized conversation with no tasteless slurs or empty threats, a boy he had inexplicably shared dreams with. That boy had been just an interesting child, though he still didn't understand what exactly had possessed him to allow Avalanche to get away. The Cloud Strife that had stubbornly looked after him while he had gone through a major mental meltdown and ultimately saved his life and sanity was no child and he knew he wanted the young man like nothing before.

"Even if that will be the case…"

"When, Sephiroth." Zack never doubted, never hesitated. He was lucky to have such a friend, mild insanity aside.

"As you wish, Zack. When that will be the case what should I say to him?" All he knew of seduction was what his fangirls had thrown at him and considering their nonexistent success, that wasn't the way to approach this.

"Aeris, help! Uh, telling him that you like him is a pretty good place to start, right?" He had never thought he would get to see Zack look that panicked. And as lucky as he knew he was, it still amused him.

"No mincing words like that, dear. Love. And then he's going to tell you that he loves you back. Eat your apples and tell me if you'd like me to make them when you introduce this Cloud to me too." That made him choke on air and pick an apple just to have something to do with his hands.

"Don't you think you are getting ahead of things?" The apples were sticky and sweet, heavier in taste than he would have preferred, but the cool fruit under the caramel sauce was good.

"Not at all. If he loves you and Shin-Ra and Avalanche stop fighting , then why would he ever say no to you?" So simple, so logical, but despite all the fawning adoration Sephiroth got from the masses he was far from sure that Cloud would truly want him and decide to pursue whatever feelings he had. Getting close to him just wasn't what sensible people did.

Then again, falling in love or lust with an enemy wasn't exactly what sensible people did either. He was totally—irrationally—proud of Cloud for being so insensible.

Thoughts of the conflict of duty with Cloud and _not human _still circled his mind like wolves, but somehow, nothing could really take hold of his thoughts like in his office. Zack teased him very carefully and Aeris cajoled him into eating two more apples. As relaxed and inexplicably pure as he felt sitting there with them, he knew he couldn't stay. The crisis was far from over yet; there were piles of reports he'd have to stay up to finish, a meeting with several much harried Soldiers he was going to have to call as soon as he got back, and—despite the late hour—he had to meet with Reeve and Scarlet as well. Actually he had already stayed too long.

"Are you sure you don't want to wait half an hour and leave with me? Aeris' mother issued a curfew," Zack explained, stepping outside on Sephiroth's heels. He refused, but when the door closed behind Zack, cutting off the warmth and life from inside, Sephiroth felt a firm constriction around his chest, a sudden desire to stay despite all. It reminded him again how he felt about Cloud and now the magic his friends had worked on him didn't banish the worry anymore.

"If you wish to turn me on, pluck the strings, don't spare the tone and allow a little blues into the tune…" The window above the door had been opened and Aeris' clear, velvety voice carried into the night. At least Zack had gotten what he deserved, a chance to be with Aeris openly and without fear.

"Love chanted high and chanted low," Aeris sang on as Sephiroth walked away to the car parked nearby. He was no President Shin-Ra, but could he mend the fences enough to have a chance with Cloud? And how many concessions was he ready to make for a selfish desire?

* * *

The room was furnished with mismatched tables and chairs, handmade wooden furniture next to plastic and steel, colourful carpets and cheap table clothes. Vincent was sitting across the room from Shelke Rui. He was cleaning Death Penalty while Shelke seemingly stared into space. Every so often she would glance up at the man another woman had loved and open her mouth as if to speak, but no words would come out. It had been like this for the last half-hour since the ex-Tsviet had first come in. An ex-Turk and an ex-Tsviet walk into a canteen, Vincent thought with grim amusement. All they needed was an ex-Soldier to make a proper joke out of it. After the sixth time it happened, he glanced back at her before she could look away again.

"Did you want to say something?" he asked and made sure his voice was patient and friendly. It wasn't Shelke's fault the Tsviets had messed her up any more than it was his fault that Hojo had messed him up. Actually, he shouldered greater blame in this than she did and that was why he was going to be understanding and gentle despite the unsure look he had caught Verhandi giving him made him ache.

He also felt a little hurt by the lack of trust. Did she think him that completely messed up?

"Nothing! Just, I'm, I mean…" She seemed to gather her courage and then blurted out without drawing a breath: "Why aren't I good enough for you? I love you more than my own life, I understand what you have gone through like no one else can and I know for a fact that I'll live centuries longer than Verhandi. You wouldn't have to watch me age and die!" She stood up and walked to him, then sat right next to him. In the slightly too-big green shirt and blue trousers with hems turned, supplied by Piekna, she looked even more like a child. But she walked like a woman and her eyes were much too old in her face.

"Lucrecia Crescent loved me. Lucrecia Crescent is dead. You are Shelke Rui and you should live your own life, not chase after something that didn't really happen to you in the first place." It might have been nice if the fairy tale could have been true, but then again, living that lie would have cost him his wife.

"It was real to me! In that place my memories of you were the only thing that kept me going." No fairy tale should be this painful either. His hearth ached for Shelke.

"I am sorry." What else could he say to her, especially since there was something he wanted from her? She had killed for him, broken free for his sake, but that life still wasn't hers to live, never mind how much she desired it.

"Shelke?" Vincent asked after a pressuring moment of silence. He knew it was selfish, but he had to know and against all sense, odds, and realities, he had been awarded one more chance. He was using her, taking advantage of a condition that had destroyed her identity, and he despised himself for it, but he couldn't help himself.

"Why did Lucrecia break up with me? Why Hojo? And did… did she ever forgive me?" She lifted her face, so soft and childish and unlike Lucrecia it felt ridiculous to ask that of her. But Shelke was no child.

"She despised herself so. She had been Grimoire Valentine's assistant, your father's. She only lived, because your father sheltered her from the explosion with his own body. I just couldn't bear it! I had practically killed your father and then I seduced you! But I didn't mean it, and I didn't mean anything that happened after! Hojo was. Hojo was there, he asked and Lucrecia just said yes because she couldn't come up with a good reason not to. I never blamed you, even for a minute. If it hadn't been my hysterical reaction and monumentally stupid judgement we could have lived happily ever after." She was breathing hard and her knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the chair. It was one of the wooden ones, dark brown.

"Thank you for telling me." He couldn't say more, as his tongue wouldn't obey his mind. All these years knowing there was no chance to make things up, nothing left to save. This didn't make it right, and never could, for nothing could bring Lucrecia back, but at least she hadn't hated him, hadn't blamed him. With a wince, Vincent realised that he was crying, voiceless, but fierce as if there would be no end to his tears. A small, warm hand touched his right arm before settling there and he let her; he couldn't _not_ let her. He felt like his heart had broken again, as it had when he had first found out Lucrecia had died; it had fallen with abandon and the number of shards had been countless.

It took him a few tries, but when he managed to stop the tears and shaky breaths, his chest felt lighter. His head felt lighter even with the beginnings of a headache, like he was drunk, and when he turned his head to look at Shelke, he saw that she was crying too. Now it was his turn to touch her hand and hold tight as her grief and trauma rode their course.

"I think I am certifiably insane," she confessed with a small voice once she had also gotten her breath back. Vincent could tell that she was scared.

"I know a man named Bugenhagen who lives in Cosmo Canyon. I am sure that he could find a good, trustworthy therapist for you. Do you have any family? I think you mentioned a sister."

Rather than empty platitudes, she needed reassurance that something could be done to make her better. Bugenhagen was a good, resourceful man and Vincent himself knew how much loving family could help. Lovely, clever, fiery Verhandi, who had fled her home and become an eco-terrorist for him and who had hit him, Veld and Elfé over the head with a notepad when she had heard that the supposedly relatively safe mission had ended up with General Sephiroth making an appearance and the Mako reactor core literally melting. And Cloud, serious, fiercely loyal, and awkwardly sincere in his newfound love, he was bound and determined to somehow make everyone proud of him.

"I have a sister. We were close; I wonder if she still searches for me. Maybe she thinks I am dead." Shelke spoke slowly, like trying to recall something half forgotten.

All this had begun because of Jenova. He still hated Hojo with an intensity and fervour that his death hadn't diminished any; Shin-Ra was still a rat bastard that hadn't given a damn for anything but money and power and pretty women, but Jenova falling from the sky had been the beginning of everything. Vincent remembered with relish how he had called for Chaos, how the apparition had taken the purple spectre and flown through the fire and lethal radiation and green chaos, so familiar, so homely to him/it, and thrown Nova Jenova into the melting core. He had avenged himself and Lucrecia, Lucrecia's son and the man his son might have become; he had also avenged a little girl stolen from her home and a sister left to grieve.

He had avenged this all and a whole race twice over and he wondered about what that adult Cloud in a tiny, pale, feverishly determined form had told him of his one true love. Maybe somewhere out there lived a half Cetra who had also been avenged.

"This is not fair," Shelke said in a voice that said she didn't expect it to ever get better.

"We have made it better. It will be better still." Turks were generally cynical and wouldn't trust something as flimsy and unsure as the future if their lives depended on it, but he was an ex-Turk and he had learned to believe in miracles.


	35. Chapter XXVII: Coming to terms

**Chapter XXVII: Coming to terms**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

Can there be history without humankind? Nature lives on forever, the cycle of life and death birthing life without design, purpose, directive principle, or finality other than life. Warm sun and cold that kills, pushing from the ground and eating sun, or eating the sugar in the green, or warm blood. Gaia was like this once, but as the Heaven's Terror could evolve her/itself into a mind that cut time to pieces and called them past, present and future, Gaia was evolved through the lost Cetra and humankind. It is ironic, how Mother Nature has lost part of her nature, but understanding of history may be her salvation yet, where so many others have been drained.

In the Lifestream, beyond time and space, beyond history, Gaia holds a box in her power. It isn't a material box, but the idea of a box, a container of other things, marvelous things, for permanent or temporary use as storage. A piece of history and the collective consciousness of the Cetra are what she has concealed in it and then closed the lid. But even she can not keep this going on forever. The discord is ravaging her core, two different histories tearing her apart, where there is Geostigma polluting her flesh like leprosy in one, and where there is a chance for peace and healing in another. One where the Crisis ravages, one where she/it is dead at last.

As long as the box is closed, the system, history, simultaneously exists in a superposition of the states of a dead cat and a living cat, Nibelheim burning and Firefrost One burning. Only when the box is opened the wave function will collapse into one of the two states.

* * *

There was no love lost between Elfé and Sephiroth and not much trust either. Once there was word that the new General President of Shin-Ra was willing to negotiate the pardon of past crimes and a new energy program that would lead to the gradual closing of Mako reactors during the next ten years in exchange for Avalanche's disbandment, Elfé had sent Veld and Vincent to infiltrate the Shin-Ra Tower to make sure that the offer was genuine. Then she had proposed to hold the parley in Cosmo Canyon; she wasn't going to lead Soldiers to their real HQ. Sephiroth had refused the place, knowing that Avalanche would have a significant advantage in a place that had once been their base of operations.

Once they had managed to agree on the place and time of the parley via phone conference (at a small, abandoned civilian airport named fittingly Concord near Junon), on the second day of September, she had seriously asked her father and Cloud's to come up with the best evacuation plan in the history of humankind and two contingency plans for it. In the end, General Sephiroth had refused the old, unsecure buildings and the negotiations had ended up being held in a tent.

"Look, here is something Veld managed to scavenge while he and Vinny snuck around the Tower of Evil. Want to take a look?" Hákon offered, handing over a pile of prints. Cloud took them, giving the man an evil eye.

"If you think that this is going to make me forget that we aren't allowed more than a hundred meters near the Soldiers, you are sorely mistaken," he said dryly. Piekna nodded solemnly beside him and Hákon grimaced. Cloud had never seen Mako eyes so sheepish.

"This wasn't my order, but your mother's, and Elfé agreed to it. Heads up, if things are going to get hairy you will get to join the fight and if not, well, it doesn't really matter that you're up here." They were all four, Cloud, Piekna, Hákon and Red, sitting under the high mast in which the wind pouch was attached. Right now the wind was nonexistent; the pouch was drooping sadly at the top of the mast. The military green tent was at the end of the landing strip down the green hill and Cloud was watching it dutifully. The metal from the weapons of both the Shin-Ra personage and Avalanche Fighters was glittering beautifully in the midday sun. The talks had begun early in the morning and Cloud expected them to go on for hours yet; it was obvious that both Elfé and Sephiroth wanted this over with as quickly as possible, not to have another meeting to hammer out more details later.

"If you say so," Cloud muttered and begun to flip through the files. He knew Hákon had spoken the truth, but it didn't change the fact that being left out irritated him profoundly. Also, from this far he couldn't get a very good look at Sephiroth and he couldn't be sure if the man even knew he was there.

Elfé, one of the files read. The name at the top of the page caught his attention. Barrett Wallace, Sears, Pœga Jonsson, Jessie, Cloud Strife…

"Hey, these are files on us!" he exclaimed and Piekna's face was immediately less sour as she reached to take few of them from Cloud. Her fingers whispered briefly over his wrist and Cloud didn't lift his face from his own. Hákon moved to slip an arm around his shoulders.

"Yeah, you have a file of your own and they actually know your whole name. It's like my baby boy taking his first steps. I wish I got a camera," he jested.

Cloud tuned Hákon into the background as he flicked through his own file. Name, age, which they had wrong, place of birth unknown, physical description... position on Avalanche... known family members, who turned out to be unknown. They knew his mother was the Mako scientist, but not her name, and that he had a father, but nothing on him. Actually, Cloud was pretty sure that Veld had heavily modified these files before his defection. People would have noticed they were tampered, but remembering what had read in the originals? More tricky. His eyes trailed down the rest of the page. Missions he had taken part in, nothing except distracting Soldier Second Class (now First Class) Zack Fair in Cosmo Canyon, and past criminal history, nothing there.

"I guess they can't have anything on me yet," Piekna said, sounding disappointed. "I wish I'd had enough time to do at least one mission before these negotiations. Not that I'm not happy we are going to have our way with the Mako reactors!" She worried her lower lip between her teeth until it was deep red like lipstick, working through the pile of folders.

"Red, your file is almost completely blank," Cloud reported, looking at the single sheet of printer paper. Red, Nanaki, didn't turn his gaze from the tent, but flicked his ears towards Cloud. His tailtip kept twitching, red flame dancing back and forth almost hypnotically, though the effect would have been better had it been dark.

"They don't even have your name listed, just "escaped experiment". And they seem to be confused about whether you are a member, stolen goods or the group mascot. So much for Shin-Ra intelligence. And species equality." That couldn't even be Veld's doing, he had disappeared years before his father had recued Red. But what did a flame lion matter to President Shin-Ra?

"Is there a bounty on me?" Red asked, sounding a little strained. It reminded Cloud of his father after one of his nightmares, luckily those were rare these days, and he ran his fingers through Red's fur comfortingly. He wasn't exactly soft or fluffy, not like a cat, but he was warm and it was very much like petting someone's hair.

"It says nothing like that here. Besides, if everything goes well with Elfé and the General you will be granted amnesty just like the rest of us. Hojo is too dead to argue against it anyway." He still felt, proud, saying that, even if he hadn't killed the man. He was also sure that things would go well. They had to; Sephiroth was a good man and Elfé was a good woman. They would come to an agreement.

"Good." Red, Cloud had already learned, was a very gentle person by nature. He had a nice, dry sense of humour, and always had time for whoever needed an understanding ear and didn't have one violent bone in his body. Now his mouth spread in an ugly grin that bared his sharp, white teeth. Cloud understood the sentiment.

Piekna put the other files aside and looked at the last two folders. Cloud put Red's aside and sat beside her to give them a look also; they were quite sizable.

"Vincent Valentine. It's your father!" Piekna picked the first one up and glanced at him for permission. Her smile was a little strained, but Cloud was like he didn't notice, though he berated himself for coming so close to her. He nodded his permission and Piekna opened the file and blanched. The entire first page was the basics: Name, age, place of birth Icicle Manor, physical description, position on Avalanche and known family members. Grimoire and Esmeralda Valentine, the grandparents Cloud had never seen, looked at him from the attached pictures. Most of the following pages were blacked out and stamped "Classified".

"Uh, it seems like your father used to be someone pretty important," she managed to say. Cloud nodded, going through the papers, looking for Shelke's file. He couldn't find her; maybe they hadn't moved her from Tsviets to Avalanche by the time Veld had taken the information.

The wind was picking up and it smelt like freshly cut grass and rain, with the faintest hint of crispy frost in it. Cloud glanced at Hákon who was staring intently at the tent, looking ready to spring forward at any moment now that he had managed to distract him and Piekna for a while. Cloud was testing his newly enhanced senses, reaching out as far as he could. He could hear the soldiers and Soldiers that had accompanied Sephiroth talking around the tent with low voices and he could even tell a few key words from the general noise: Sephiroth, Avalanche, Shin-Ra, peace. Also, Wutai. Cloud wondered if Emperor Godo had sent the General some kind of diplomatic missive and what would come of the relations between the rightful ruler of Wutai and the man who had conquered the land. Sears had gone to the tent with Elfé, naturally, but Biggs and Wedge were guarding outside, along with Ciddi's men and those led by Donald. They were barely speaking at all, only whispering a word now and then that he couldn't make sense out of.

He could also see clearer now. It wasn't like with telescopes which brought things closer, details just were clearer at greater distance. There was something in the way his comrades moved, the way the men in Shin-Ra's blue and charcoal moved, that spoke of great intensity. Heads turned towards the tent all the time now.

"They are making some kind of agreement now, or this is going to end badly," Piekna said quietly, letting her hand rest awkwardly on the katana that Elfé had talked her into training with. Hákon didn't say a thing, Red looked like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse. Cloud was breathing evenly like his father had taught him, ready, but inconspicuous.

"You are gripping your sword too hard, it's going to cut off the blood flow from your fingers and make you clumsier," he advised and Piekna obviously forced her grip to relax. Then the cloth was pushed away as Elfé and Sephiroth emerged from the tent.

Cloud made himself focus on Elfé first and the expression from her face kind of threw him. It was a cross between happy and utterly bemused, with a twirl of paranoia. He was reminded of the first Winter Solstice in Cosmo Canyon when he, the new communal kid brother, had received at least one gift from every member of Avalanche except Fuhito, if he remembered right. It was the first time he had ever received a gift from someone who wasn't a family member and it had left him grinning happily, but also flummoxed, wondering how he could receive so many gifts, because that had never happened to him before; he had wondered if there had been some kind of mistake. In Elfé's case, the word mistake was to be replaced with dastardly Shin-Ra plot, but he knew very well how the woman surely felt.

"It went well," he said aloud. His voice was pretty quiet, but the head beside Elfé's turned and Cloud's eyes turned to look straight into impossibly green ones, framed by silver mane. He could barely breathe.

* * *

Dyne Fargo was sitting in a bare room, his wrist cuffed to his hand protease, glaring at his guards viciously. The Soldier Third Class looked more bored than anything, though the troopers seemed more affected, unnerved by his muscular form. Desert Prison was a hard place to do time; the work they were made to do was ruthless and the pecking order of the prisoners even more ruthless. He had worked his way to the top of the food chain slowly and bided his time, planning his escape. At times, he had wondered why he bothered; his wife was dead, his little girl was dead, his best friend was dead, all killed by Shin-Ra, and he alone was left behind to carry the guilt of having aided and abetted in their destruction. But he just wasn't the type to roll over and die. With the taste of blood in his mouth, he had clawed his way to the head honcho position of the inmates and didn't die. Didn't give up.

It seemed like none of that mattered now. Somehow Shin-Ra had found out of his plan and he was in chains again, waiting for his punishment. Dyne found himself wondering who had ratted them out and if he would be in a position to make the vermin suffer for this any longer.

The door slid open with a faint creek and Dyne lifted his face, his face carefully blank. But all pretence of calm was abandoned as the bitch walked in. He could feel his face draining of blood, could feel his heart hammering in his throat, at his fingertips, hear the rush in his ears until the roar drowned out else. He leapt to his feet, his hand balled into a fist, and thrust the body of a soldier attempting to stop him away like it was but air. The Soldier jumped and grabbed him with hard hands, but he struggled with all his might, yearning to beat the beautiful face in front of him into a bloody mess. The scarlet whore had stepped back and he could taste her fear. It was so sweet, almost as sweet as curling his hand around that long, graceful neck would be.

In the ugly, yellow light of the holding cell, against the concrete and grey steel, she was like a fairy from another world. Her lipstick and nail polish were the exact same colour as her slinky dress and her small feet were clad in silk stockings and elegant high-heeled shoes. Dyne Fargo hated Shin-Ra, hated himself, hated his life, but more than anything else in the world he utterly despised Scarlet Abbiss.

"Long time no see, cunt," he growled, finally giving up his useless struggling, finally breathing again. His strength was no match to that of a Soldier, but if only he could lull the man in charcoal into false feeling of security, believing he had given up, just maybe he could move quick enough to break the slut's neck. He let his posture slump, merely glaring.

Scarlet made a sound deep in her throat and lifted her head straighter. Something flickered in her eyes, but Dyne didn't know what and didn't particularly care either.

"Charmed. Dyne Fargo, under the mandate given to me by Shin-Ra's new General President Sephiroth I hereby declare you innocent of the charges that led to your sentence here and therefore a free man. You will be given a suitable recompense for the injustice you have suffered and transport to Cosmo Canyon where you will be handed over to Avalanche." Scarlet's voice was cool and detached. It was also completely nonsensical.

Dyne stood there, unmoving like a man turned into a stone. Shin-Ra's new General President, the woman's words played over and over again in his head. Innocent of the charges… free man… suitable recompense… handed over to Avalanche. Gears were turning over in his head and his eyes were stinging. He hadn't been so close to tears since he had decided to never shed a single one again, never after crying for Eleanor, Marlene and Barrett. He had been betrayed after he had assisted Shin-Ra to go after the terrorists and imprisoned for nothing, and he had never managed to figure out why. It had been years and now he was told that it was just over, that he would be sent to a resistance group like it was nothing.

"Suitable recompense," he snarled, "What do you think you can give that will bring my wife and child back? What about my friend? My home?" He was shouting now, his throat raw. The arms of the Soldier were like steel bands around him and only then he dimly realized he had begun to struggle again.

"I am sorry about your wife," Scarlet said awkwardly. Dyne cursed a blue streak, leaving Scarlet's blush to match her name and her expression even more strained.

"However, your daughter is not dead. Marlene Wallace is nowadays the adopted daughter of Barrett Wallace, Avalanche's second-in-command who believed you dead. You will be brought to them."

Barrett had joined Avalanche? Something aching inside him, something he had believed numbed for years, truly went numb now. He was unresisting like a thrall, allowing the troopers to usher him out of the holding cell and through long hallways into an armoured car. He only noticed after the car begun to move that Scarlet wasn't in it. Probably only sensible of her.

He tried to imagine what Marlene would look like now. He pictured long, brown pigtails and a wide smile, shining eyes, dressed in pink dress. He pictured Barrett holding an arm around her, them both waiting for him in front of a small house. It still didn't feel real. It had to be some cruel sort of amusement, he thought. In Desert Prison, he had soon learned that if something seemed too good to be true it was just that. This had to be Scarlet playing with his head and he was going along with it like there was a leash around his neck. A small part of him pointed out that a practical joke like this would be kind of involved and utterly pointless, but by then he was already hyperventilating.

* * *

This has happened. Shin-Ra sent General Sephiroth to Nibelheim, in the middle of nowhere, to a mission much below his status. And there slept an alien predator goddess, the revelation at the end of age, such terrifying, exhilarating secrets to destroy the world for. And one Cloud Strife is an orphan, suspended in Mako green and will suffer for years, until he can't tell himself apart from the man who suffers beside him. And the last of the Cetra will die and Gaia can never unbreak what has been broken.

This has also happened. Shin-Ra sent General Sephiroth to Firefrost One, in the middle of nowhere, to a mission much below his status. And there slept a clone of an alien predator goddess, the revelation at the end of age, such terrifying, exhilarating secrets he couldn't decode. And one Cloud Strife is the one who dragged him away from those secrets, who won't lose his sense of self. And the man who might have died for him will live happily ever after with his girlfriend, the last of Cetra, who won't be run through with a blade.

In the Lifestream, beyond time and space, Gaia opens the box and the wave function collapses.


	36. Epilogue: Come night, come dawn

**Epilogue: Come night, come dawn**

Disclaimer: Not mine and I make no profit.

* * *

Love makes the Planet go round. Maybe Vincent didn't know it better than anyone, but he knew it better than most.

_Aren't things cozy now? But are you going to tell your Cloud how things might have been?" _Chaos asked Vincent in a voice that was almost his. The night was chilly, and the breaths of every man and woman in the hills near Concord Airport created small, white clouds, that were visible in the darkness. Everyone but Vincent, that is; he had made sure to regulate his body temperature to that of the air around him. It was uncomfortable, but while he hoped for Cloud's sake that General Sephiroth's offer had been genuine, he was still on his guard.

"Would it change things for the better?" he asked back mentally, his eyes trailing after Cloud. His son had strayed from the main camp and was wandering aimlessly in a narrow crevice between two steep hills.

How would his son benefit from finding out that if had things gone a little differently, his mother would be dead, Vincent wouldn't be his father, Sephiroth would be insane, and the lover he had never met in this life would be dead? Things might still take a wrong turn, but this was life and that was history. There was no reason to clutter Cloud's mind with might-have-beens.

The grass, hard and fragile with frost, was breaking behind him, the cadence of the steps familiar to him.

"Are you sure that encouraging this is a good idea? It _is_ General Sephiroth," Verhandi protested, slipping her arms around Vincent. She twitched, the doctor in her screaming in alarm about hypothermia no doubt, even though she knew exactly how far Vincent could control his body.

He didn't even need to look back to be overcome by his love for her. This was what she always was, warmth and support, worry and love and loyalty. Vincent was not a religious man by nature, but Verhandi and Cloud were the reason he had learned to have faith in Gaia, much to Veld's bewilderment: any higher being that had given him them would have proved itself to Vincent.

"I'm not exactly encouraging him," he pointed out, and turned around at last to look into Verhandi's worried eyes, luminescent in a way Mako could never compare to.

"You aren't actively discouraging him either, and that is as good as 'go ahead' for him," she pointed out.

"I have my reservations about the situation," Vincent admitted. And he _did_, because part of him was whispering that it was Lucrecia's son, but it was rather overshadowed by the part that pointed out how Sephiroth had been an enemy up until that day, and might still be one day. He was older, and if not more experienced when it came to relationships, at least much stronger, but…

"Cloud has made up his mind and you know how much he resembles you in this. He will see this chance through." And he would be devious about it also. The place Cloud had made himself available in just happened to be in his father's sector. He would be under the eyes of the one person who wouldn't sound an alarm, and at the same time satisfy his parents' need for surveillance.

"Well, this should make for an interesting conversation, at least," Verhandi sighed. Not defeat, but understanding kindled in her eyes, along with reluctant pride. Now she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering a little. The wind was picking up.

"Conversation?" Vincent queried. Now her smile took on a decidedly steely quality.

"The one where I point out that if he doesn't treat my Cloud right, I will bash his head in with a microscope, stab him to death with an IV needle and cook his body for spare Mako and soap." Her voice was light and casual, but it couldn't conceal the ruthless love behind it.

Vincent had been unconscious the day after Fuhito's experiments had escaped—he had been dealing with the aftermath of fighting the man himself—and hadn't been there to see Verhandi drag an unconscious Veld with a knife on his jugular and demanding safe pass from the Canyon, but the stories he had heard of her feat had always been hushed and respectful. Now he thought he knew what her eyes had looked like then, other than a lack of the desperation she was sure to have been feeling. Verhandi was a moral woman, a true doctor. Vincent didn't think for a second she would make soap of General Sephiroth in any circumstance.

He could imagine her stabbing him to death with a needle for hurting Cloud.

_Aren't you a sweet family, tea and cookies and soap and Mako and gunpowder and violence. And how Cloud would have injected himself, those dreams were so amusing, even if the actual objective wasn't attained. _Vincent didn't want to know. He knew he would find out more once Verhandi left.

"I think you should go back to the tent, my heart. You are cold and I don't know if Sephiroth will approach if he sees your breath." The sooner they saw this through and knew where they stood with Cloud and Sephiroth, the better. Verhandi nodded reluctantly and turned on her heel to walk away. After a few steps, she ceased her tread and looked at him over her shoulder.

"I have thought about the future, love. You know how I have always made money by making soap and other cleaning products? I thought about starting a small company," she said. And he was left to keep vigil alone.

_And everybody lived happily ever after? _Chaos' voice echoed mockingly through his head.

"Reasonably happily," he answered out loud. If Sephiroth indeed returned Cloud's feelings, good for them both, but life with someone as messed up and insanely famous—both loved and hated—as Shin-Ra's Silver General wouldn't be a walk in the park. They weren't guaranteed automatic marital bliss, nor were they guaranteed a successful relationship. Shelke's identity was in hundreds of shattered pieces, most of which weren't even hers to begin with, and her sister was missing. And there might or might not be a second war with Wutai in the future, depending on how bold Lord Godo was feeling and how badly Sephiroth wanted to keep the land. Red was still severely traumatized by his experiences in Hojo's hands and Vincent had a feeling that Dyne Fargo, once he arrived, could use some therapy also. And the dead were still dead, of course. But all in all, things were well. There wasn't going to be an apocalypse, for one. And Verhandi lived.

"What did you mean by Cloud being willing to inject himself in his dreams?" he demanded to know. Chaos laughed in his head, a disturbing laughter that was just like a little child's, joyous and innocent.

* * *

The night was cold, but Cloud barely felt it from his excitement. Sephiroth had turned and just looked at him, but there had been much concealed in that look and so he was waiting for the man now. He had made himself available in just happened to be in his father's sector: father wouldn't sound an alarm and this way his mother wouldn't flip either. He couldn't be sure whether the man returned his probably all too obvious feelings, merely wanted to properly thank him or ensure that he wouldn't make his origins public knowledge.

As painful as being in the dark was he couldn't be sure which it would be, but he was sure that Sephiroth would find his way there, to speak with him without witnesses.

Only, Sephiroth's mind didn't work quite like his.

What Cloud didn't understand because he had been raised and trained by Vincent, and Vincent didn't understand because he was a Turk by nature if not in name, was that Sephiroth didn't think there was anything to hide at this point, with President Shin-Ra dead. Half a lifetime of being mobbed by the media had taught him the value of discretion, but being in the middle of nowhere surrounded by people he knew wouldn't go to the media, for one reason or the other, _was_ discreet. Skulking around would have been undignified and, above all, disrespectful towards Cloud. It would have implied that he was ashamed of him.

And as little as Sephiroth knew of romancing someone he knew that was to be avoided at any cost.

"Cloud," he heard his father's voice before he heard him approaching. Cloud turned around and squinted his eyes in the dark to see his father, whose dark red coat seemed to sink right into the surroundings.

"You have a visitor," father told him. Cloud blinked, the gears in his mind halting and slowly taking a new direction.

"Ah. Of course. Sephiroth." And then he was already running up the crevice, frosted grass suddenly slippery and terribly noisy under his feet.

He hadn't paused to ask where Sephiroth was waiting, but it was obvious the second he got back up. There were angry voices, fairly silent for the time being, but gaining strength, and a huge group of people in front of one of the small, green tents. It was the tent he shared with Hákon and Donald. And in the middle of the group there stood a silver-haired man, clear and bright against the night sky despite his back clothing, dwarfing everyone except Barrett.

"You don't have to meet him," Elfé promised him. Veld laid his hand on her shoulder and whispered something into her ear, so silent even the Fighters there couldn't hear, but judging by the way Sephiroth's eyes narrowed briefly he did. Cloud didn't stop to look what kind of reaction whatever Veld told to Elfé got out of their fearless leader. His feet had a life of their own, leading him to the man he had dreamed of as if in a thrall. The group parted in front of his and revealed his mother standing beside Sephiroth, her eyes were fairly sparking as she looked at the man one last time before turning towards their comrades.

"Everyone give them some space now," she commanded, and with his father and Veld's help, the area near the tent was cleared. Cloud ducked into the tent quickly, feeling the stares on them as a nearly physical weight. Behind him, the cloth rustled as the tall man rather awkwardly stepped into the small tent. Before it closed again, Cloud managed to catch a glimpse of Piekna's startled face.

She knew, that much was obvious. Cloud knew her well and despite the backlight of the main tent behind her, it was clear to see that she was both bemused and comprehending something at the same time. But she wasn't angry, and Cloud gave her a small, grateful smile. Piekna was one of those whose bad regard would really trouble him.

"Cloud Strife." Something in Cloud's stomach melted at the sound of his name coming off Sephiroth's tongue and he took a deep breath, thankful for his awakening senses; it would have been very awkward if he hadn't been able to see Sephiroth's face.

"General Se-Sephiroth." Cloud attempted formality and winced at the stutter. He almost took a step back as Sephiroth took a authoritative one forward, but that would have given an entirely wrong message. He wanted to speak with Sephiroth since that had been the entire purpose of loitering outside their camp, unnecessary as it had been. And just as in the airship the last time, he was completely tongue-tied.

But he had to say something. Cloud knew that there were some things that couldn't be taken back. Once you had entered Don Corneo's employ, you couldn't just leave the mob for a more rewarding career as a Shin-Ra enquirer; you couldn't make your friend forget what you really thought of his girlfriend—according to Hákon anyway. Also, once you became an Avalanche member and then miraculously became not-enemies with General Sephiroth after having fallen in love with him, it would be a crime to spoil everything at that point because of nerves.

"I'm happy to see you. I was wishing you would come," he managed. It was true. It also wasn't throwing himself at the man, which was good. He didn't want to seem desperate.

"May I sit?" Sephiroth asked and Cloud's lips twitched in something that didn't quite become an amused smile. Sephiroth was a tall man and the tent they were in wasn't very high, forcing the man bent down slightly. It was stupid, but suddenly the situation wasn't half as intimidating as it had been a second ago. Sure, Sephiroth was still this larger than life figure who wasn't easy to get close to, but he was just a man after all.

"Of course," Cloud said, gesturing with his hand and sitting down himself. Sephiroth moved gracefully as a cat, Cloud noticed with admiration.

"We don't have much privacy here, what with cloth walls and lots of enhanced people," he warned the man he loved.

He really shouldn't have thought of him like that and admitted his feelings in his presence, because the nervousness that had only just left him returned with vengeance. He was a teenager alone in a tent with the most beautiful, strongest person he knew, and lack of privacy aside, his mind very unhelpfully supplied him with a little fantasy of Sephiroth kissing him. And of a graceful hand that slipped down his chest… Cloud could feel his face reddening and dropped his eyes, unable to look into those impossibly green eyes any more. His worn boots were suddenly a very fascinating sight.

"I am aware of that. Also, this isn't the ideal situation to have such a conversation in, but there are a few things I need to ask of you. Would you please look at me?" Cloud couldn't very well refuse without seeming impolite, so he obediently lifted his eyes. Sephiroth was smiling, but Cloud had a feeling that it wasn't because he felt like smiling, but because he felt he had to smile. That smile was wolfish and not just because it was open-mouthed. It showed his teeth, yes, but the expression had very little to do with the physical and everything to do with the sheer force behind it. It was like Sephiroth had decided something and now power rippled off him in waves. It was dizzying.

It was also terribly sexy. And a small part of Cloud whispered that it looked kind of like battle resolve, only nicer.

"Shoot," he said and resolved to sit there and listen to Sephiroth.

"First, you don't care that I am not human?" Sephiroth's voice was toneless. Despite the embarrassing want, hope, shyness, and fright of rejection chasing each other in Cloud's mind, he was tempted to kick the man. He had gotten Cloud all worked up for that?

"No, and I have already told you so. I don't care if you have alien cells in you, I don't care if you can do things most human cannot, I wouldn't care if you were green with purple polka dots, I love you anyway." And just like that, the truth slipped. Panic followed a fraction of a second later.

Sephiroth's yes widened and the look in them was something terrifyingly vulnerable. Cloud had already opened his mouth to take his words back somehow, to at least amend them, but he couldn't now. As utterly ridiculous as likening that to kicking a puppy and Sephiroth to the puppy would have felt only moments before, now Cloud was reminded of his dreams, of the ominously glowing Mako tank, and how could green be so ugly? Of the medical bed and the restraints and the smaller thinner body tied to it. Because as much as Sephiroth was a bigger than life tragic figure he was also a man and now it sank in to stay. Even if he lived to be a hundred years old Cloud couldn't unlearn that now. The silence was deafening.

"I'm not going to take that back. But I really, really hope father has kept everyone away," he whispered.

"Thank you. I love you also," Sephiroth said like he couldn't quite believe it could be that easy. Neither could Cloud; _I love you, too _was repeated in his mind, over and over and over again. He wondered if it might be appropriate to kiss Sephiroth now when confessions had been shared and accepted. Sephiroth loved him back! He had hoped, of course, there had been hints, but it was one thing to hope and another to heart it like that.

"As you have already answered my second question there is only one more left. When the worst confusion is over, would you come to Midgar to visit me? There are people who have expressed a wish that I introduce you to them."

Sephiroth had told his friends of him? Cloud felt silly, happy grin splitting his face. probably Zack Fair and some other Soldier.

"Of course. I, uh, don't know if I can tell you where I live, but send the message to Bugenhagen in Cosmo Canyon, he knows how to contact us." Sephiroth loved him! Cloud had no idea what he had that the third of humanity that had been lovestruck by Sephiroth lacked, but he was so grateful, more grateful than ever before.

"Now I have made my questions. Do you have any?" Now Sephiroth's smile had lost its wolf-like quality and become more natural. As he leaned back, he thought that maybe Sephiroth had seemed so ferocious because he had viewed this meeting as some kind of battle he had to win, or maybe like some diplomatic meeting with someone he had to convince to be his ally.

"Yes. Would you mind if I, ah, kissed you a little?" Cloud's eyes once again dropped to the bedroll at his feet. It wasn't a voluntarily action; he was smiling, but he was still shy.

It was a chaste kiss. Sephiroth leaned over him and pressed his lips against Cloud's for a few, precious seconds. Cloud's eyes went crossed as his face got closer and closer, until he closed them, shuddering as their lips touched. There was a brief moment, barely a heartbeat, when he took a shuddering breath and Sephiroth's tongue licked his lips. Then they were separated again and Cloud was left feeling feverishly hot; it was like his heart would burst and he waited until he had the strength to look into Sephiroth's eyes again.

"My mother is going to threaten you with a gruesome death, you know." His father might be restrained by the memory of Lucrecia, merely warning him to not play with Cloud's heart, but mother wouldn't have the same scruples. Neither would Hákon, or Barrett, or Piekna.

"She already did."

* * *

Love makes the Planet go round. People who deny this have never truly been in love.

The love of ordinary people changes the ordinary, mundane things that they do. Maybe they would refuse a promotion and transfer to another town or change their diet because their significant other is a vegan. Maybe they would give up the rat race of Shin-Ra business and take up pottery and make feathery ornaments to sell in the market because love changes people's view of the world like that.

Some people are important in the great scheme of things. Maybe they were created to be so, maybe they were intelligent and strong or just plain influential, or maybe they just were in the right place at the right time. When they fall in love, it can change the course of history.

"I have a bit of a confession to make, but first, tell me what your opinion of cross-dressing is?" said the eco-terrorist to Shin-Ra's pet enforcer. Cloud was so happy, he was positively drunk on the feeling.

This is how the Planet didn't almost end.

* * *

AN: A Box Full of History has ended now. For those that are saddened I have good news, however: there will be a short sequel. Operative word being short; at the moment I have only four chapters planned and I don't think it will be longer than that.


End file.
